


Chosen One

by all_choseny, ivyscribbles (all_choseny)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2020-08-11 14:28:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20155096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_choseny/pseuds/all_choseny, https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_choseny/pseuds/ivyscribbles
Summary: Buffy Summers spent most of her life watching Slayers like India Cohen dominate the modern zeitgeist. She never imagined that one day she’d be among the Chosen Ones, a vampire slayer. After gaining the power of the Slayer, Buffy finds herself swept into the world of fame and instant popularity, her every move captured and mass produced for public consumption under The Slayer brand. Stylized as a real-life hero, Buffy is tasked to fulfill her destiny as The Slayer. Guided by her watcher Rupert Giles and controlled by Wolfram and Hart, she soon finds that being a Slayer isn’t all that it seems. With the aid of Spike and her friends, Buffy learns that beneath the facade lies a deadly secret Wolfram & Hart will do anything to keep.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In the spirit of DC comics, I consider this a Buffy the Vampire Slayer Elseworlds story by placing Buffy in modern times and adding my own twist on canon characters. I usually try to avoid having multiple WIPS out, but this story came to me in a dream, and it wouldn't let me go. I don't have a posting schedule for this one either, but I'll update as my muse guides me. This is a slow burn Spuffy story. 
> 
> Thank you to my Beta MiseEnPlace for your excellent beta skills! Any remaining mistakes are definitely mine 
> 
> This Buffy is modernized, so the story is present day (or there about).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note 1: In the spirit of DC comics, I consider this a Buffy the Vampire Slayer Elseworlds story by placing Buffy in modern times and adding my own twist on canon characters. I usually try to avoid having multiple WIPS out, but this story came to me in a dream, and it wouldn't let me go. I don't have a posting schedule for this one either, but I'll update as my muse guides me. This is a slow burn Spuffy story.   
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Note 2: India Cohen is a non-canonical Slayer created under the Buffy the Vampire Slayer licensed material. India is featured in Tales of the Slayer, and she was created by Nancy Holder. You can find more info about India here: https://buffy.fandom.com/wiki/India_Cohen
> 
> References to Molly Ringwald, John Bender and Clair are from the movie The Breakfast Club
> 
> The Funky Chicken cheer was featured in the 1992 Buffy the Vampire Slayer movie. The character Pike is from the original movie. Merrick Jamison-Smythe also appears in the original Buffy movie and Buffy the Vampire Slayer: The Origin movie-tie-in comic. Whedon said, "Whedon stated: "The origin comic, though I have issues with it, CAN pretty much be accepted as canonical. They did a cool job of combining the movie script (the SCRIPT) with the series, that was nice, and using the series Merrick and not a certain OTHER thespian [referring to Donald Sutherland] who shall remain hated."

India plastered on a smile and waved enthusiastically to the studio audience as she crossed the sound stage. She was on her fifth press junket; and if she had to smile one more time, she was going to scream. The crowd cheered and clapped as she walked across the stage and took a seat across from Ellen DeGeneres. “Hi, Ellen. Hi Everyone!” India greeted her host with a warm smile. 

“Hey, India! First of all, it’s nice to meet you,” Ellen said, leaning casually in her chair. “And for those of you who have been living under a rock for the last three years, this is India Cohen The Chosen One aka our current Slayer.” Ellen paused to allow the crowd to clap and cheer. “I know right!” she said, motioning toward India. “So, do I call you The Chosen One or Slayah? I wanna act like I know you.” The audience laughed with them. 

“I would say my friends call me India, but they don't really speak,” she replied with a smile still plastered on her face. 

“That’s right! You recently adopted a fur baby,” Ellen said. A picture of India’s Japanese Akita appeared on the screen behind them. 

“Yep! It was a gift from my Watcher, Kit. Hi Kit,” she said, waving at one of the television cameras. 

“Aww how cute. So, tell me about your furry little friend. Isn’t he just cute, guys? " Ellen said to the audience. "Or is it a she?” 

“It’s a she, and I named her Mariposa. She’s a year old and a bit of a firecracker.” 

“I hear you two are like peas in a pod; you usually like bringing her along on interviews and photo shoots.” 

“That’s true. I love her. She’s one of the bright spots in my life.” 

“Awww, how nice,” Ellen said with a smile. “So, speaking of bright spots, I know you’ve got a tough job. We’ve all seen some of the videos and those TMZ photos. You don't always do fun things like this as a Slayer.” 

“No. It can be tough, but it’s my calling. I was born for this. Literally.” 

“That’s right. She alone…”

“Correct.” India smiled at Ellen and then at the audience.

India hated this part; the sympathetic head nods from people who couldn’t fathom what it meant to be a Slayer. She knew Ellen meant well, but she had no idea that India was just a cog in the Slayer machine. They had no clue how much of her life was scheduled and planned for their consumption. The moment India became a potential she had signed her life over to Wolfram and Hart and the Slayer brand. India’s life was more scripted than "Keeping Up with the Kardashians." 

“You’re one of the more popular Slayers with approval ratings we haven’t seen since Samantha Jamison. Congratulations,” Ellen said, and the crowd clapped on cue. 

“Thank you. That means a lot to me. Every night I get out there, and I do what I do for all of you.” India motioned to the crowd. 

Ellen reached over and grabbed some cards. “I’ve got some numbers here. Your vampire slay count is well into the thousands, and the number of demon kills keep climbing. As of the latest report, you’re at three hundred and seventy-two.” 

“Three ninety-five,” India faked a chuckle, and the crowd laughed with her. 

Ellen held up her hand. “As my good friend Cardi B would say, Okurrr,” Ellen said, and the crowd laughed again. “Wow, that’s something. You know, every little girl grows up pretending to be a superhero, and you’re living the dream. What’s that like for you?” 

India smiled once more and tried to keep her face neutral. She didn’t hate being a Slayer. Most nights she loved the thrill of slaying, and she liked helping people. When India was a potential, she used to fantasize about the difference she could make as a Slayer. She believed in her calling even if Wolfram and Hart had turned the Slayer name into a cash grab. Kit had tried preparing her for this when they trained together. As a potential, she had received some notoriety, but it didn’t compare to the type of attention she garnered as a Slayer. Every so often India wished she and Kit could just run off together and live off the grid. They could get a little cottage in the country and raise dogs together while she slayed at night. It was a nice dream. 

“Amazing thanks to people like all of you,” India replied on autopilot. “Being a Slayer is the most important thing I’ll ever do in life. And while it may not be a very long one, I’m grateful to have been Chosen. I don’t see myself as a superhero, but as a servant of my global community,” India recited. She glanced off stage and made eye contact with Lilah Morgan. The lawyer mouthed the words with her and gave India an enthusiastic thumbs up. 

“If you weren’t a Slayer, what do you think the fates would have had in store for India Cohen?” 

“Hmmm, good question.” India laughed nervously. “I like animals. Maybe a zookeeper?"

“India Cohen, the zookeeper. Chosen to protect all our furry friends. Quick, what’s your favorite animal?” 

“Uh, uh, tiger!” India blurted and the crowd laugh. 

India forced another chuckle and relaxed in her seat. Ellen was one of the more personable interviewers. She liked it better than the radio interviews; those tended to get a bit rowdy. Most of the radio hosts wanted to grill her about her relationship with Kit. When India’s fans learned about her romance with Kit, they had spun a fairy tale only Disney could have written. Lilah had freaked and threatened to assign her a new watcher until the numbers showed her relationship with Kit was favorable. After that, Wolfram and Hart had gone on a marketing frenzy the likes she’d never experienced before or since. Once the novelty of her affair with Kit began to wane, the firm urged the two of them to “dial it back.” Wolfram and Hart was ready to move on to the next big thing they could capitalize on. 

India plowed through the rest of her tv spot with Ellen and ended it by performing a front aerial flip. When she was done, India waved to the crowd and shook Ellen’s hand before making her way off the stage. 

“You were fantastic,” Lilah gushed as soon as India was within earshot. 

“Thanks,” she said, taking a bottle of water from a stagehand and thanking him quietly. 

“No, I mean it,” Lilah said, looking down at her Blackberry. “Your Twitter mentions have increased within the last ten minutes and you’re trending.” 

“Rah, rah,” India said as she walked toward the green room. 

“You know, you could show a little more gratitude. The partners were getting nervous about your performance, and I assured them that it was just a hiccup.” 

India slumped down on one of the sofas and sipped her water. “I’m sorry, Ms. Morgan. You’re right. Thank you.” 

“That’s more like it,” Lilah said with a smirk and took a seat across from her. “Kit, be a dear and grab me a water,” she ordered the Watcher. 

“A 'please' would be nice,” he said while walking toward a mini-fridge that sat in a corner . 

India gave him a slight shake of her head. She wasn’t in the mood to get into a verbal sparring match with Lilah. All she wanted to do was get back home, so they could play with Mariposa and binge watch something on Netflix. Kit indicated his understanding and handed Lilah the water. 

“Okay, let’s post this selfie with you and Ellen. Then we’ll take one more post-show pic, and we’ll share that to Instagram.” Lilah handed India her cellphone, and India snapped a few candid shots of herself. 

“Oh no, not you, Kit,” Lilah said when he moved behind India to get in the shot. “We want the focus on India going forward. She is the Chosen One after all. There’s nothing in the prophecy about the Chosen One and her Watcher.” 

“Cool it, Lilah,” India said, speaking up. “I took the picture. Can we go now?” 

Lilah checked her Blackberry. “Your flight is at six this evening. But I think we have you scheduled for a demon slay in The Hills. One sec and I will confirm,” Lilah said while digging in her briefcase. She pulled out a dark blue folder and handed India her slaytinrary. “See, your three o’clock is a Gacknar. It goes by Dark Lord of Nightmares. If you flip the page, you can see what it looks like.” 

India looked down at the sheet of paper and read the caption under the photo of the Gacknar demon. “Actual size?” she questioned Lilah with a raised brow. 

“Don’t worry about that,” Lilah flicked her hand dismissively. “I’ll film it in a way that makes him look much bigger. I can see the Youtube hit count now.” She beamed. 

“Great,” India said chagrined. “I’ll be ready.” Her eyes met Kit’s, and her Watcher gave her a sad smile. 

++++

Buffy checked her reflection in the bathroom mirror and pursed her lips. “You know, I’m thinking I’m more of a spring than autumn,” she said, rubbing lipstick from her lips with a tissue. 

Her friend Tiffany joined her in front of the mirror and eyed Buffy’s reflection. “Yep, you’re definitely a spring kind of girl.” She raised her chin and checked for any signs of blemishes on her smooth face. “What do you think of this new foundation? It’s full coverage.” 

“Cute,” Buffy complimented her. 

“You think?” 

“Definitely.” 

Tiffany beamed at Buffy’s through the mirror and washed her hands. “So, have you decided what you’re going to do about Tyler?” 

Buffy rolled her eyes and applied some clear gloss on her lips. “I think he needs to grovel just a little bit more.” 

Tiffany giggled and dried her hands with a paper towel. “You are so evil.” 

Buffy shrugged. “Hey, don’t blame me. He deserves a little bit of his own medicine. We call that karma.” 

“Well, it’s working. You should have seen the way he was looking at you in biology. Those cute little puppy dog eyes,” Tiffany said, making her eyes wider. 

“Did he really have puppy eyes?” Buffy asked, interested in the tea her friend was serving. 

She and Tyler had been on and off again since the beginning of the school year. Buffy had finally decided to take charge of the relationship. She wasn't just any girl; she was Buffy Summers, May Queen and Captain of the cheerleading squad. She didn’t chase after boys; boys chased her. 

“Oh yeah. You really stuck it to him when you got your Molly Ringwald on and started dating Pike,” Tiffany said, referencing the John Hughes cult classic. 

Buffy’s brow knitted together in a slight frown. Pike was her rebound du jour; he was cute, fun, and short-lived. She hadn’t used him per se, but it didn’t hurt that dating him had made Tyler go crazy. Or so she heard. Pike was the John Bender to her Clair, a small delicious act of rebellion. If it hadn’t been for the influence of her friends, she might have kept dating him. Those two weeks had been pretty epic. But she couldn’t take another fish joke. Her friends were so lame. 

“Well, I think I might give him a break if he’s as broken up as you say he is.”

“Oh yeah, he is totally heartbroken.” 

Buffy smiled at her reflection again. “Hey, you wanna hit the mall after school? I need a new lipstick,” she said, tossing hers in the trash bin as they exited the bathroom together. 

++++

As soon as Tiffany’s mom dropped her off, Buffy ran up to her room and hid the lipstick she had (accidentally) stolen from Sephora in her sock drawer. Her cheeks were stained pink with shame and embarrassment. Buffy hadn’t meant to steal the lipstick. One minute she was trying it on and the next she was distracted by Tyler and his friends. She hadn’t even realized she pocketed the lipstick until the security alarm went off. Panicked, Buffy and Tiffany took off running and didn’t stop until they reached the other side of the mall. Too afraid to go back inside, they waited for Mrs. Jacobson to pick them up outside of Macy’s. Buffy looked down at the lipstick, tucked beneath her yummy sushi socks and groaned. She could never wear it now; it was her secret shame. Proof that she was a lipstick thief, a criminal. 

Buffy closed her drawer and laid faced down on her bed. She couldn’t bear the watchful eyes of India Cohen looking down on her. “I didn’t mean to steal it,” she explained to the poster of the Slayer on her wall. She had gotten it at Walmart three years ago when India was Chosen. Before India, the space had been occupied by BTS during her K-pop phase. She remembered when BTS was life. Now, she was into the Slayers, and India was her favorite. She liked a few of the potentials like Whitney Porter, Priya Khan, and Laurel Smith, but India was the Chosen One. She was special, a real-life superhero. Buffy wanted to be just like her. She often fantasized about being a Slayer. Most of her friends weren’t aware of her Slayer fangirling; she liked keeping that part of her life private. Slayers were popular, but she was certifiably obsessed. Buffy followed India on Instagram and Twitter. She watched her youtube videos dozens of times and even owned some Slayer memorabilia. If her friends found out, she’d never hear the end of it. 

“Buffy!” Joyce Summers called Buffy from downstairs. 

“Coming, mom!” Buffy yelled back and dragged herself from the bed. She hoped her mom was in a better mood than she had been the last few days. Joyce had been crabby over Buffy’s grades. Three C’s and a D wasn’t that bad. One might call that average. She was an average student. Average wasn’t bad. Average was…well, average. 

“Have a seat,” Joyce said cheerily, instantly putting Buffy on alert. “I thought we’d have pizza tonight and catch up on some daytime tv. I DVRed Ellen. She had the Slayer on today.” 

Buffy eyed her mother suspiciously. “Okay, where’s my mom, and what did you do with her?” 

Joyce chuckled and patted the cushion next to her. “She’s been body-snatched. I’m just the pod person taking her place,” Joyce teased. “Kidding. Come on, have a seat. Your father’s working late again, and I thought we’d have a mommy-daughter night. What do you say?” 

Joyce didn’t have to ask her twice. Pizza and Ellen sounded like heaven after the day Buffy had. Maybe if her mom was in a good mood when the police came to haul her off to juvie, she wouldn’t get so upset. Buffy slid on the sofa beside her mother and reached for a paper plate. 

“Mmm, extra cheese,” Buffy said, inhaling deeply. She grabbed a slice of pizza and placed it on her plate. 

“So, how was your day? Anything interesting happen?” Joyce asked as she scrolled through the DVR. 

Buffy finished chewing her bite of pizza and swallowed hard. “Nope. Just another boring day at school.” 

“Oh, that’s nice,” Joyce said, preoccupied with the television. She scrolled for about another minute before she found that day’s recording of Ellen. “Ah! Here we go,” she said triumphantly. 

Buffy settled back in her seat and watched Ellen dance across the screen before introducing her guest. She took another bite of her pizza and curled her legs beneath her hips. Buffy studied everything about India from her stylish dark hair to the shoes she wore on her feet. 

“She always looks so put together,” Joyce said, watching the television. “Even when she’s slaying. I really like this one, Buffy.” 

“Uh-huh. I hear she always does her own hair and make-up even on photoshoots.” Buffy was practically a walking encyclopedia on India. 

“She’s way more personable than the last Slayer. What’s her name… Courtney something. No wonder she didn’t last very long.” 

“Mom!” Buffy said in shock. 

“Well, it’s true. She had no real zest for it. India really seems like she enjoys slaying. I like seeing that in a Slayer. Makes me feel…safer, knowing there’s a Slayer out there who enjoys her job.” 

“I don’t think they really call it a job, mom. It’s more like a calling. A destiny.” 

“Oh, that sounds so sweet. Either way,” she said dismissively. “India has a certain… je ne sais quoi. I think this girl is going to be around for a long time,” she said before taking a bite of her pizza. 

++++ 

“Ready! Okay!” Buffy yelled out. Her voice bounced off the walls of the gym. “How funky is your chicken?!” Buffy flapped her arms. “How loose is your goose?!” 

“Our goose is very loose!” her squad called back. 

“Come on all you offense!” She swung her hips in time to her pom-poms. 

“Come on all you offense!”

“And shake your caboose!” Buffy yelled. 

“And shake your caboose!” 

Buffy jumped high in the air and shook her blue and gold pom-poms enthusiastically. “That was great, guys! Now, let’s practice our pyramid. Janice, you were a little shaky our last game.” 

“That’s because Kimberly and Tiffany were having a hard time holding me up.” 

“Yuh, because you’ve gained like ten pounds. Maybe if you laid off the burgers, we’d be able to lift you,” Kimberly said. 

Buffy winced. “Guys, no body shaming, okay? This is an inclusive team,” Buffy scolded. “I’ll be the flyer. Janice, you’ll be my back spot. Tiffany and Kimberly, you’ll be my bases,” she instructed. 

Buffy watched as the girls scrambled into place before they hoisted her high in the air. She raised her arms above her head and plastered a wide grin on her face. “Go! Hemery!” Buffy yelled. She continued waving her pom-poms wildly and fought back the sudden bout of dizziness that clouded her vision. Buffy lurched forward just as a surge of energy passed through her body, knocking her backward. She fell back and hit the gym floor with a hard thud.

“Oh my God, Buffy! We are so sorry!” Kimberly said, crouching down beside her. 

Buffy shook her head and focused on her friend’s anxious face. “What happened?” she asked weakly. 

“It was her fault!” Tiffany pointed at Janice. 

“No, it’s not! I’m just the back spot,” Janice protested. “You’re the one who let her fall,” she accused Tiffany vehemently. 

Buffy sat up on her elbows. “Really, I’m fine guys,” she deadpanned. “I got a little dizzy.” 

“Oh, it must be vitiligo,” Tiffany said knowingly. 

“You mean vertigo?” Janice corrected. 

“That’s what I said.” Tiffany rolled her eyes. She huffed and looked at Buffy. “Do we need to get coach?” 

Buffy climbed to her feet. “No, I’m okay.” She looked around the empty gym. 

Buffy wasn’t sure what had happened up there. One minute she was fine and the next she was tumbling to the floor. She had hit the ground hard, but she had barely felt any pain. She’d seen girls take that same fall and break bones. Buffy rotated her shoulder and frowned. She was fine.

“O-okay, let’s try that again,” she said with less confidence. Buffy had been cheering since she was five, and this was the first time she’d taken a tumble that bad. 

“Are you sure, Buffy I could be at the top,” Tiffany offered. 

“No, I can do it,” Buffy said and braced herself as her teammates hoisted her to the top of the pyramid again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to MiseEnPlace for your wonderful beta skills! Any remaining mistakes are mine.

Lilah stared at the row of headshots she had spread across her desk. They were her top five power rankings among the list of potential Slayers who could take India’s place. Each potential had excellent, marketable qualities, but she had her heart set on Whitney Porter. She stared down at the smiling teen and studied her perfectly symmetrical features. Whitney screamed cornfed blonde and harkened back to the idea of good American values. Lilah could practically see the mass appeal she’d have with right-wingers and the ultra-patriotic. She’d stylize Whitney as an American Sweetheart; the ultimate girl next door who could also kick anyone’s ass. Lilah was aware some of the other members of the firm were secretly running an office pool. It seemed like Faith Lehane had a small following. Lilah hoped Faith wasn’t the next Slayer. That girl had caused them trouble since the moment they plucked her off the streets. No, Whitney was a safe bet in the current climate. She wondered how the Slayer would fare if they stationed a few of her slays down at the border. The press would go nuts if she slayed a few of those border-crossing vampires. Lilah smirked and placed Whitney’s photo neatly in her file. Now that India was out of the picture, she hoped she could make partner soon. Lilah had worked too damn hard to allow one Slayer to kill her career. It was a shame because India had been so promising. Then the missteps began, and they didn’t stop. Her relationship with Christopher “Kit” Botwell had been the final straw. While the public seemed to eat up their romance, Lilah saw it as an obstacle. India became sloppy and preoccupied. And that damn dog… 

Lilah pulled up India’s final Instagram post with her, Kit and Mariposa. It was so…domestic. A Slayer wasn’t domestic. A Slayer was a hunter, fierce and deadly. Wolfram and Hart had built the Slayer brand on that image. India was her responsibility, and she had let the Senior Partners down when she allowed that relationship to get so out of control. India was a good a Slayer; she had lasted three years. Some of her predecessors hadn’t been so lucky. But all good things had to come to an end eventually. Sometimes, it just needed a tiny push. 

India’s final battle with Lothos hadn’t been as unexpected as it seemed. Lilah had to do a lot to make that deal with the master vampire of L.A. She left the details up to him, but the result was India’s death and the rise of a new Chosen One. Even she hadn’t expected the plan to be so tragically delicious. Wolfram and Hart could dine on India’s death for years. Some cities had already begun erecting monuments in her honor. She was scheduled to cut the ribbon at the renaming of Jefferson High School to the India Cohen High School. So, while her personal life had left much to be desired, India’s popularity was a huge asset to the firm. 

Now they were entering into a new era. The Senior Partners had scheduled the unveiling of the new Slayer for the following week. Lilah was anxious to find out who the new girl was immediately. She had less than a week to prep her for her new life, and then the media circus would begin. Lucky for her, she’d already begun preparing Whitney for her new role. Lilah had no idea if the Kentucky native was going to be their new Slayer; she just had a hunch. Whitney made the most logical sense. Although Lilah was aware that magic was often illogical. 

“Well, don’t you look like the cat that ate the canary?” Lindsey McDonald said from her doorway. 

Lilah looked up from her desk and rolled her eyes. “I guess we’ve forgotten how to knock around here.” 

“Your door was open, Li,” Lindsey said and strolled into her corner office. He took the empty seat across from her and sat down. 

“Yes, well, that isn’t an open invitation.” Lilah folded her hands together and peered at her colleague. “Well, what do you want? I don’t expect this to be a social visit.” 

“Of course not. Did you see my press conference about your girl, India?” 

“No, I haven’t had the time to watch your little press conference.” 

Lindsey shrugged. “I knocked it out of the park. In fact,” he said grabbing the remote to her television. “It’s playing on loop.” Lindsey switched on the tv and grinned as his face appeared on the screen. 

“Yes, the entire Wolfram and Hart family is deeply saddened by Ms. Cohen’s death. She was a wonderful Slayer, role model, and human being. She will be missed.” 

“Mr. McDonald!” A reporter from the press pool yelled out, capturing his attention. “Can we have any more details surrounding India Cohen’s death?” 

“While details are still emerging,” Lindsey responded with his usual aplomb, “here is what we do know. Two nights ago Christopher Boswell, Ms. Cohen’s Watcher, was brutally assaulted and kidnapped by a group of vampires who allegedly work for the master vampire Lothos. In addition to Mr. Boswell, their family dog was also taken. Ms. Cohen pursued the vampires back to Lothos’ point of operation where she was allegedly murdered by the vampire.” 

“Are there any updates on Mr. Boswell’s condition?” 

“Mr. Boswell is currently being treated for his wounds and is expected to make a full recovery.” 

“What about Mariposa?!” Someone called out. 

Lindsey’s lips spread into a thin smile. “Mariposa is fine and is being taken care of by a member of our support staff while Mr. Boswell is in recovery. Last question,” Lindsey said, pointing to another reporter. 

“Any idea on when we will know the identity of the next Slayer?” 

“That’s a great question. And we look forward to revealing the identity of the new Slayer shortly. Thank you all for your continuing support. There’’ll be no further questions at this time,” Lindsey said and backed away from the podium. 

“Smooth,” Lilah said, keeping her face passive. 

“I told you I knocked it out of the park, and I think I smell a promotion.” 

Lilah let out a scoffing laugh and walked over to her wet bar. “In your dreams, McDonald. Your last Slayer died within months of being called. You don’t exactly have the best record.” 

“That was circumstantial. But I think my luck has changed. Guess who got an email today from the Senior Partners regarding the next Slayer?” 

Lilah paused as she poured herself a drink. “Me, because I got that email.” 

Lindsey smirked and bridged his hands together. “Then I guess unless there are two Slayers, we’re working on this one together…partner.” 

Two Slayers. What a joke. Lilah gave him a curt smile and took a sip of her drink. The bourbon burned a hot trail down her chest and warmed her belly. Goddammit! She was going to have to work with Lindsey. Lilah tried to hide her frustration as she finished her drink. She busted her ass at Wolfram and Hart for years, and the partners still felt she needed a man to hold her hand. It was bad enough she made less than Lindsey when she was far more competent at her job than he was or any of her male counterparts were. This was the partners sticking it to her once again because of what she had between her thighs. Typical. 

“I won’t hold my breath,” Lilah said, taking a seat behind her desk. 

“So, who do you think is the next unfortunate soul?” Lindsey asked, referring to the potentials. 

“I don’t know. It’s not like we will ever know these things; unless you’ve got a direct line to the PTB that I don’t know about.” 

Lindsey chortled and shook his head. “If I did, I wouldn’t be sitting here.”

“Touché,” Lilah responded. She sat quietly behind her desk and stared at Lindsey for a moment. “Well.” 

Lindsey stood up and buttoned his coat, realizing he had overstayed his welcome. “I’ll see you later, Lilah,” he said, exiting her office. 

++++

Lilah checked her appearance one final time before she headed to the conference room to meet with Marcus Hamilton. As the liaison to the Senior Partners, he was the face every junior partner in the firm communicated with. No one had ever seen the Senior Partners, and Lilah learned to stop questioning their existence ages ago. At any rate, she respected Marcus and had developed a special rapport with him over the years. She hoped the liaison would deliver good news to her that afternoon, but she had vowed to make the most out of whatever Slayer she’d get. Lilah was a winner and she was determined to win. 

As the first to arrive in the conference room, Lilah took her usual seat close to the head of the table and waited for the rest of her colleagues to arrive. Although she and Lindsey were to lead on this assignment, the remaining junior partners were also tasked to support them. Lindsey arrived next, and Lilah gave him a curt smile. More junior partners filed into the office, chatting amongst each other. Lilah pretended to be engrossed in her phone, avoiding making small talk with people she had no desire to speak to. As far as Lilah was concerned, they weren’t her support, they were her competition. 

“Thank you all for your prompt arrival,” Marcus said, as he walked into the boardroom. “I’ll wait until everyone is settled before we begin.” The room grew quiet as they waited for him to continue. “As you all know we lost India Cohen a few days ago. Let’s have a moment of silence for our fallen Slayer.” Marcus paused for a millisecond before continuing. “Alright,” he said, clapping his hands together. “I know you all have been anxiously awaiting the identity of our new Slayer. Many of you have expressed certain interests in our current roster of potentials. I know you’re all interested to find out if your favorite little potential has been called among The Chosen ones. Well, without further ado, I present to you our next Slayer,” Marcus said. 

An image of a blonde girl appeared on the flat screen behind him. Everyone sat in stunned silence for a moment as they struggled to place the unfamiliar face with a name. Lindsey made eye contact with Lilah and lifted a quizzical brow. He was just as much in the dark about the new girl as she was. 

“Uh, Mr. Hamilton,” Joanne from the 15th floor hesitated. “Pardon my ignorance, but who is that girl?” 

Marcus’s lips spread into a smile. “A surprise,” he answered truthfully. “As you know our ability to track down potential Slayers is a process that requires some of our most talented warlocks and witches. Occasionally, a girl or two slips through the cracks. As in the case of our Buffy Summers.” 

Buffy, Lilah mouthed. God, she was going to represent a Slayer named Buffy. She might as well start typing up the girl's obituary.

“Buffy. Her name is Buffy?” Joanne asked, echoing Lilah’s thoughts. 

“Yes,” Marcus confirmed. “Buffy Summers age, sixteen lives in Los Angeles County with her parents Hank and Joyce Summers. Our Buffy currently attends Hemery High School where she is a cheerleader. Ms. Summers currently holds a grade point average of 2.0 and has an average performance academically. She is approximately five foot four and weighs 110 pounds. As of two days ago, Ms. Summers was imbued with the power of the Chosen One.” 

“And I’m guessing she has no clue,” Lilah said. 

“You would be correct, Ms. Morgan,” Marcus confirmed her suspicions. “I know as her representation that might seem concerning. She hasn’t had any preparation or training as a Slayer. But I trust you and Mr. McDonald will work together and produce a product that we can be proud of,” he said with a confident smile. 

“And we’re certain she is the Slayer?” 

“Yes,” Marcus said. “I’ll expect you and Mr. McDonald to make contact with her as soon as possible. In the meantime here is a list of Watchers the Senior Partners believe will complement our new Slayer. Please review their credentials and submit a name to me by the end of the day, so we can get the ball rolling.” 

“Of course,” Lilah said and bit back a sigh. 

“As for the rest of you...although you are not leads on this particular assignment, you all are tasked with supporting Lilah and Lindsey. If you have any questions or concerns, remember my door is open.” 

“Mr. Hamilton.” Joanne raised a tentative hand to speak. “I’ve been working with Shuji Nakayama and recently arranged a sneaker deal with Under Armour. Now that she’s out of the running as the Chosen One, does that mean I should terminate the contract?” 

“Of course not. Our potentials are just as marketable as the Slayer. She may not have been chosen this time, but that doesn’t mean she won’t ever have that opportunity. While the focus will be chiefly on Ms. Summers, we still want our potentials to feel like they are part of the Slayer family. Although they are branded differently, potentials have a rather sizeable following. So, continue fostering that relationship with Under Armour. If at any point it conflicts with Ms. Summers, I’ll let you know.” 

“Thank you,” Joanne said with a relieved sigh. 

“If there aren’t any more questions…” Marcus said, looking around the boardroom. “You all are free to go.” 

Lilah sat in her seat for a moment. She was still processing the unexpected news she had received just moments before. Lilah wasn’t sure which was worse, receiving some obscure girl with no experience or one of the undesirables, potentials who did not fare well in the public eye. 

“Ms. Morgan, is everything alright?” Marcus asked. 

“Yes. Of course. I was just thinking about how I can spin this.” 

“I’m sure you and Mr. McDonald will do a fine job.” 

Lilah smiled and gathered her belongings before exiting the conference room with Lindsey hot on her heels. He followed her back to her office and closed the door behind them. 

“So, what do you make of this?” Lindsey asked. 

“What do you mean? Someone screwed up and now we’re screwed.” 

“Not necessarily,” Lindsey said with a smirk. “I’m surprised the queen of spin is unable to see the potential in this little turn of events.”

“Oh, I can see the potential, Lindsey. Potential for disaster and ruination. This girl is untrained. Raw. And now she’s our little pet project. If I wanted a Build-A-Bear, I can go to the mall.” 

“The fact that you don’t see how this can work in our favor tells me that you can’t see the forest for the trees.” 

“Fine,” she said, sitting behind her desk. “Paint this bigger picture for me.”

“When did Wolfram and Hart co-opt The Watchers Council?” Lindsey began. 

Lilah rolled her eyes. “I didn’t know we were playing trivia.” 

“Humor me.” 

“I believe it was back in the late 90's.” 

“Right, and the first Slayer we marketed as a superhero was Samantha Jamison. Do you know what was so special about Sam? Nothing,” Lindsey said, shaking his head. “Samantha was an average Slayer, and by all accounts unremarkable. But do you know why people liked her? Because she was new. Different. People like new and different. They like to be entertained. How else do you think the Kardashians become insanely popular? 

“Sex tapes,” Lilah answered. 

“Well yeah, that, too,” Lindsey smirked. “Slayers aren’t new anymore. But people still like them because they like being entertained. All we have to do is sell Buffy Summers as something fresh and new. Imagine, an untrained Slayer going out on her first slay. The public will be a witness to all her firsts. First slay. First love. First kill. They’ll witness all her failures and her triumphs. They’ll root for her. They’ll cry when she cries and smile when she smiles. They’ll follow her on this journey of discovery and maybe learn something about themselves along the way,” he said, ending his speech. 

Lilah sat quietly for a moment. Lindsey McDonald was so full of shit, but he could paint a pretty picture. Lilah nodded her head and began a slow clap for her partner. “Well done,” she complimented him. “It’s all a crock of bullshit, but we force-feed the public bullshit every day.”

“And they beg us for more,” Lindsey said. 

“So, you’re saying we turn Buffy Summers into everyone’s pet project.”

“Exactly. And the finished product will be something they can feel proud of. They’ll talk about Buffy Summers one day, and that school teacher in West Bumfuck, USA will say she was there to see Buffy Summers come into her own.” 

“That could work,” Lilah said begrudgingly. 

“I know it can.”

“How do you propose we build a Slayer?” 

“We surround her with an interesting cast of characters. We’ve got her parents, her schoolmates, and we find her a Watcher. Then we create those hot takes and other twitter worthy moments for her.” 

“Alright,” Lilah said warming up to the idea. “We take this girl and build her up.” 

“Then we can knock her down.” Lindsey stuck out his hand, and Lilah grasped it in hers. 

“Well, now that we are in bed together,” Lilah said, “how about we find that Watcher.” 

++++

Lilah tapped her pen against her legal pad and studied the list of names Marcus had given to them. She had no idea who would make a good watcher for Buffy because unlike the other potentials, she had no footprint. They were working with a blank slate. In the years since Wolfram and Hart had taken over The Watchers Council, they had had very few missteps. The firm worked hard to maintain control over the Slayers and the Watchers they kept on retainer. Lilah joined the firm after the acquisition, but she knew that turning the Slayers into a gimmick was about power. The Senior Partners had effectively tipped the scales in their favor, turning Slayers into nothing more than figureheads. They slayed, but everything was regulated. The Watchers Council, once an organization of trained protectors of the Slayers, had sold their souls to the devil to preserve what little power they had left. Now it was up to people like Lilah and Lindsey to exploit them. 

“I’ve narrowed it down to Timothy King and Paulette Staine,” Lilah said, looking down at her notes. 

“What’s your pitch?” Lindsey asked and rolled up his shirt sleeves. 

“Timothy has been with the Watcher's Council since he was nineteen. His uncle was also a watcher. He’s proficient in the art of Kung Fu, Judo, Wushu, and Kendo. He speaks three languages, and his thesis garnered a lot of respect while he was still in training. Paulette is a woman. So, rah-rah, girl power,” Lilah said. 

Lindsey smirked and shook his head. “Those sound…good. But I was thinking we go in a different direction. I’ve pretty much narrowed my choice to Merrick Jamison-Smythe. Merrick comes from a long line of watchers. He studied at the Watchers Academy and graduated top of his class. He’s already trained five slayers, so we know he can whip our Buffy into shape. Merrick is a little mature, which may test well with older fans. And provide that additional strong male figure in Buffy’s life,” he said, sliding Merrick’s photo to Lilah.

Lilah frowned at the glossy image. “He looks like Mr. Belvedere,” Lilah groused. 

“Well, I was going more for Mr. Feeny. Everybody loves Mr. Feeny.” 

Lilah shrugged. He had a point. 

“We’ll use Merrick to get Buffy into shape and take it from there,” Lindsey finished his pitch. 

Lilah looked down at her choices. They did the cute young watcher thing with India, and that had been a bust. So maybe it was best to take it in a different direction. Lilah liked the idea of a woman watcher, but everyone did love Mr. Feeny. 

“Alright, Merrick it is.”

Lindsey clapped his hands together. “Perfect. I’ll take the name to Hamilton.”

“We’ll take the name to Hamilton,” Lilah corrected. 

“We’ll take the name,” Lindsey repeated with a smirk. “Once we get the approval, we’ll contact him.” 

“Meantime, we’ll take a trip to L.A. County and meet Buffy and her family. I’ll draw up the contracts and have those ready by end of business tomorrow.”

“Great. We can make a day of it,” Lindsey said.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to MiseEnPlace for your great beta work! Any remaining mistakes are mine. 
> 
> Some dialogue was borrowed from the 1992 Buffy the Vampire Slayer movie script.

Buffy was in total shock. She knew Slayers didn’t live very long, but the news of India Cohen’s death had surprised her. No, it did more than surprise her. It devastated her, and Buffy couldn’t quite understand why. She hadn’t known India personally; the Slayer was an image on her wall or a face in her news feed. Yet, she had felt India’s death as profoundly as she felt her cousin Celia’s. Her grief was natural. As a fan of the Slayer, she grieved with everyone else. But there was something particularly macabre when the deceased person was so young. Just that week, India had been alive, making videos for her fans on social media. 

Buffy had learned the news of India’s death while scrolling through her Twitter feed. Fans poured out their expressions of grief throughout the hour. Ironically, the first tweet she had seen belonged to the president who was not a fan of India. The president had tweeted his condolences in his twisted way, writing: My warmest wishes and condolences to the family of the Slayer, India Cohen. Hopefully, the next Slayer can avoid such a tragic ending and serve this country better. 

He was still salty about some comments India had made about him earlier that year. Buffy hadn’t believed the news until her publicist tweeted the official news. 

Buffy played a clip of India from her Instagram page and watched with sadness as the fallen Slayer playfully rapped along to “Alone” by Halsey and Big Sean. She lifted Mariposa to the screen and cuddled the dog while she sang. “Say hi,” India instructed Mariposa and waved the dog's paw at the camera. A few seconds later Kit came into the frame. The Watcher kissed India on her temple and waved at the camera. India stuck her tongue out while throwing up a peace sign, and the video ended shortly after.

Buffy realized she would never see another video from India again. This was it, her last message to the world. Buffy stared at the poster on her wall for a long time and blinked away the moisture in her eyes. Was it too soon to take it down? Would it be mean if she did? Buffy stood and walked over to the desk in the corner of her room. She picked up her India Cohen Funko Pop figurine and burst into tears. Buffy wasn’t sure how long she cried, but she didn’t stop until she heard the sound of her father’s voice behind her. Buffy quickly wiped her eyes and turned around to face Hank Summers. 

“Buffy, are you alright?” her father asked gently. 

Buffy nodded her head. She wondered how long her father had been standing there. The thought of him watching her ugly cry caused Buffy's cheeks to warm with embarrassment. “Yep. Peachy with a side of keen,” she answered, and her voice wavered.

Hank stepped into the room, and his eyes zeroed in on the poster of India Cohen hanging on Buffy’s wall. “Your mother told me she recently passed away,” he said, nodding toward the over-sized photo. 

“She was killed by a vampire,” Buffy sniffed. 

“I’m sorry to hear that. I know you liked her.” Hank sat on Buffy’s bed and motioned for his daughter to join him. 

“Yeah. I know it’s stupid,” Buffy admonished herself. 

Hank placed his arm around her shoulders. “No, it’s not. You were a fan, and in many ways it felt like you knew her. I remember when John Lennon died. I might have felt the same way you’re feeling right now.” 

“Really?” Buffy asked, leaning her head on Hank’s shoulder. 

“Really.” 

Buffy’s lips curved into a watery smile. She didn’t feel all that weird anymore crying over a girl she had never met. “Dad?” 

“Hmmm.” 

“Who’s John Lennon?” Buffy asked. 

Hank leaned back and looked down at her. “You’re kidding me, right?” 

Buffy shrugged, indicating she had made a serious inquiry. 

Hank slapped his palms on his thighs. “John Lennon is one of the greatest musicians of all time, and I am shocked, shocked, I say, that my daughter doesn’t know this.” 

Buffy laughed at her father’s mock outrage. John Lennon was old people music. Buffy was aware of her parents’ record collection, but she never showed interest it. “Sorry?” 

Hank laughed and gave Buffy a smacking kiss on the top of her head. “How about this? Let’s get some ice cream, and I’ll give you a crash course in music history.” 

“Will there be chocolate chip, peanut butter involved?” Buffy asked with mock apprehension. 

“Whatever you want.”

“Okay! I’m in!” 

++++

Buffy ran through the empty halls of Hemery High School. Her feet slapped hard on the linoleum floor, echoing loudly as she ran. She had been feeling strange over the last few days, and wasn’t sure what to make of it. Buffy stopped in front of the weight room and peered inside. She knew it would be empty during that time of day, but she wanted to be sure. She had to conduct her experiment in absolute privacy. Buffy wasn’t sure what exactly she was going to do in the weight room, but she had to know if tossing Kimberly across the gym was a fluke or… something else. 

The thing with Kimberly had been an accident. Buffy wasn’t even sure how she was able to throw her that far. Kimberly weighed just as much as Buffy. _I mean, I can barely lift a french fry,_ she thought to herself. Buffy locked the door behind her and eyed the different weight machines around the room. She was familiar with the free weights. Her coach made all the cheerleaders do some basic weight training. But the rest of the equipment was as foreign to Buffy as her Spanish homework. Buffy zeroed in on the bench press in the corner of the room. She’d seen Tyler and his friends use it a few times, and it seemed easy enough. Buffy walked over to the machine and lifted one of the large circular weights, sliding it on the bar. She repeated the same action on the opposite side. Feeling nervous, Buffy laid flat on the bench and curled her fingers around the cool, steel bar. She clenched her eyes shut and…pushed up! Buffy’s eyes flew open, and she looked at the bar hovering above her head by her own strength. She couldn’t believe it. Buffy lowered the bar and marveled at how easy it was to push it up again. She did this several more times before placing the bar back on its landing. 

Buffy stood up and quickly added two more weights on each side of the bar and took her place on the bench once again. She closed her eyes and pushed skyward. Buffy sat up and looked at the bar in confusion. She’d never lifted that much weight before; it was more than she had ever seen lifted. Her curiosity getting the better of her, Buffy added even more weight to the bar until there was none left. She sucked in a sharp breath and pushed the bar up once again. It took more effort, but Buffy found she could easily complete a few reps. 

How? she thought to herself. Could she always bench press that much weight? Or had something happened to her? Buffy didn’t recall getting bitten by any radioactive spiders or getting zapped by Kree tech. She buried her face in the palms of her hands. Don’t freak out! Don’t freak out, she told herself. There had to be a sane and rational reason for her sudden burst of strength. Buffy drank milk; and they said, “milk does a body good.” She also ate a lot of vegetables. Okay, maybe not a lot of vegetables, but there were some leafy greens in her lunch. Buffy stood to her feet and counted the plated weights on each side of the handlebar. How could she explain this to anyone without looking like some kind of freak? Buffy backed away from the bench press and almost tripped over her feet. She needed to get out of there before someone saw her! Buffy could imagine everyone laughing and calling her some kind of She-Hulk. She’d have to sit with the freaks or the band geeks at lunch. 

Buffy rushed out of the weight room and plowed into Billy Fordham' chest, almost knocking him into a row of lockers across the hall.

“Woah, Buffy. I hear Hemery needs a new linebacker, but I didn’t know you were trying out,” he said, rubbing his chest. 

Buffy’s cheeks flushed, and she looked down self-consciously. “Sorry, I was just—” She cast a furtive glance behind her and grimaced. “Pumping some, some iron,” she finished, raising and lowering her right arm. “Five pounders!” she added quickly. “Yep, nothing more than five pounds. Whew, so heavy.” She feigned fatigue. 

Billy gave her a strange look. “Oh, okay.” 

Buffy switched from foot to foot. Once upon a time, Billy Fordham had been one of Buffy’s closest friends. One might have even called him her best friend. She also had a crush on him for a while. But once they got to high school, Buffy went one way, and Billy went the other. Now she had no idea what to say to the boy she’d once talked to every day. 

“Well, I’m going to...” she said, pointing down the hall. 

“Sure. I’ll uh, see you around, Buffy.” 

Buffy gave him a strangled smile and took off down the hall. She wanted to put as much distance between herself and that weight room as possible.

++++

Buffy went straight home after school. She didn’t want to be around any of her friends until she had figured out what was wrong with her. Buffy hoped whatever changes she was going through were temporary. When she arrived home, Buffy saw three cars parked outside of her house. Two of the cars belonged to her parents, but she didn’t recognize the third. _I didn’t know we were having company,_ Buffy thought as she let herself in through the front door. 

“Buffy is that you?” Joyce called out from somewhere in the house. 

Buffy slipped off her shoes and placed her backpack on the floor by the door. “Yeah, Mom it’s me! Your one and only daughter.” 

“Come here for a minute. Your father and I are in the kitchen.” 

Confused, Buffy headed toward the kitchen trepidatiously. It was still early in the evening and her father was never home before dinner time. Usually, when her parents wanted to speak to her together, it meant she was in trouble. Buffy thought about the unfamiliar car parked on their driveway and wondered if this impromptu meeting had anything to do with it. Buffy peeked into the kitchen and saw her parents sitting with a man and a woman she didn’t recognize. She looked at their clothes, and her heart began to thump loudly in her chest. They were detectives coming to bust her for the lipstick she had stolen from the mall! 

“Buffy,” Hank said, pressing his lips into a thin smile. “This is Lilah Morgan and Lindsey McDonald,” he introduced the pair to his daughter. 

“Why don’t you have a seat, honey?” Joyce said, patting an empty chair between herself and Hank. 

Buffy moved from the doorway with lead feet and sat stiffly between her parents. “Look, if this is about the lipstick from the other day, I swear I meant to pay for that.” 

Lilah smirked and crossed her legs under the table. “Don’t worry, we aren’t here about a lipstick, Buffy.”

Buffy looked at the woman and the man sitting beside her. She’d watched enough NCIS to know what a narc looked like. Buffy shifted in her chair and glanced nervously at her parents. Hank smiled reassuringly at her, and some of the tension ebbed from her tight shoulders. 

“Buffy,” Joyce began gently. “Ms. Morgan and Mr. McDonald are here to discuss something very important with you.” 

Buffy looked at her mother and noticed for the first time that her eyes were red-rimmed as if she’d been crying. “Okay.” Her voice was small. 

“Don’t worry, Buffy. You aren’t in trouble. Ms. Morgan and I represent a firm called Wolfram and Hart,” Lindsey said. 

The name sounded familiar to Buffy, but she couldn’t think of where she'd heard it before. “Okay…” 

“I’m sure you’re familiar with India Cohen, the most recent Slayer. We are the firm that represented her.” 

Buffy looked at Lindsey incredulously. What did any of this have to do with her? She didn't know India. 

“And we’re here because we’ll be representing you," he continued. 

Buffy’s chin jerked, and she blinked her eyes in confusion. “What? You guys aren’t getting divorced, are you?” Buffy asked her parents. 

Hank placed his hand on Buffy’s shoulder and smiled sadly at his daughter. “No, Buffy, your mom and I aren’t getting a divorce. They’re here because you’re a Slayer.” 

“The Slayer,” Lilah corrected. “After India Cohen died, the power of the Slayer was passed down to you. You’re the Chosen One, Buffy.” 

Buffy looked between the two adults sitting across from her. They were kidding, right? They had to be kidding. The Chosen One? The only thing she’d ever been chosen for was May Queen. “Yeah, I don’t think so,” she said, looking at her parents for backup. If she was the Slayer, wouldn't she have known about it a long time ago? Wouldn’t her parents have known? “I’m not even a potential.” 

“We should have found you much sooner,” Lindsey said, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. “But there were…complications. You’re right, you should have been taught. Prepared.” 

“I still don’t understand how this could have happened,” Hank said, irritated. “Buffy is sixteen.” 

“You can’t think she’s remotely ready to take on this…this big responsibility with no training!” Joyce piped up, her voice shrill. 

Lilah smiled sympathetically. “As we mentioned before, Joyce, it was through no fault of our own that this oversight occurred. However, Wolfram and Hart is committed to rectifying the situation as expeditiously as possible. In fact, the wheels were set in motion once we realized that Buffy was the Slayer.” 

Buffy sat rooted to her chair, stunned by the news and confused by what the two lawyers were saying. There were so many words. Slayer, oversight, rectify. None of that meant anything to her. She was the Slayer? The Slayer. As in she who dies really young. Buffy thought about all the times she had fantasized about being a Slayer when she was a kid. She was old enough to understand what happened to Slayers. They died. And they died horribly. 

“I know this is a lot to take in, Buffy. But this is your birthright,” Lindsey chimed in. 

“The trust I inherited from my grandfather is a birthright. This is—”

“Your destiny,” Lilah said with a slight edge to her tone. Buffy could tell she was getting impatient. 

“Maybe this is a mistake,” Buffy said nervously. “Mistakes happen all the time. Once I mistook a bottle of Nair for conditioner; and OMG, you have no idea what a disaster that could have been.” 

“It’s not a mistake, Buffy,” Lindsey said. “Tell me, do you ever dream you’re someone else?” 

“Yeah, I guess. I once had a dream I was Lady Gaga.” 

“Not like that. In the past. A girl…maybe a Maygar peasant?” Lindsey prodded. 

“A what?” 

“An Indian princess? 

Buffy’s eyes narrowed at Lindsey. He was talking the talk of a crazy person. “No. I don’t have those kinds of dreams,” she replied haughtily. 

Lindsey glanced over at Lilah, and she scribbled something on her notepad. “So no dreams?” 

“Nope. Just your run of the mill, hormone-induced imaginings of an adolescent girl. You know, filled with sex and more sex.” 

“Buffy…” Joyce said, finally emerging from her coma. 

Buffy shrugged at her mother. She was sixteen. What did her parents expect? “Sorry, guys. I don’t have freaky dreams about meager pheasants. Guess you’ve got the wrong girl. Nice meeting you both; don’t let the door hit you on your way out,” Buffy said, pushing her chair away from the table. 

Lilah rolled her eyes and walked over to the rack of dishes sitting on the counter by the sink. “Buffy,” she said. 

Buffy huffed out a long, exasperated sigh and turned around just as a knife went flying toward her head. On reflex, Buffy caught it within inches from her face. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at the knife. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” she burst out. “You threw a knife at my head.”

“I had to test you,” Lilah said with a casual shrug. 

“But you threw a knife at my head,” Buffy said, her tone clipped. 

“And you caught it.” Lilah took her seat at the kitchen table again. “Only the Chosen One could have done that.” 

“Or like any knife-catcher person,” Buffy huffed. 

“Tell me, Buff, can I call you Buff?” Lilah continued without waiting for a response. “Are you one of these knife-catcher people?” 

“No,” Buffy muttered. 

“Have you ever trained to be a knife-catcher person?” Lilah’s voice was saccharine.

“No,” Buffy muttered again.

“And you’ve never caught a knife before, have you?” 

“Fine! No,” Buffy spat. 

“Then if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck…It’s probably a Chosen One.” 

“Or a duck,” Buffy murmured, contrarily. 

“Listen, Ms. Morgan, I know you were trying to prove your point. But Buffy has a right to feel the way she does. You threw a knife at her head. She could have been seriously injured. And I should throw you—both of you— out of my house,” Hank said. 

“Not seriously injured, Hank. She could have killed her,” Joyce interjected. 

“Let me be the first to apologize,” Lindsey said. “My partner can be a bit…unconventional. But that only proves she’ll go above and beyond for your daughter. I know you all are concerned, because Buffy hasn’t had any training. But that’s what makes your daughter special. Lilah threw a knife at her head. And you know what? She caught it. No training, no experience, nothing. She caught the knife. That’s not something any girl can do. Buffy is special. And Wolfram and Hart is committed to making sure Buffy is taken care of as one of our Slayers.” 

Hank rubbed a tired palm down his face. “I still don’t know about this…” 

“I know it’s a shock,” Lilah tagged in. “I get it. I really do. But Buffy doesn’t have a choice in the matter. This is her destiny. It is her responsibility to…well, protect everyone. Without the Slayer, do you know what this world would be like? The world can’t do this without her. It needs Buffy Summers."

Buffy stood at the kitchen door with the knife still in her hand. Everyone was talking about her like she wasn’t standing right there. Didn’t she get a say in any of this? What if she didn’t want to be a Slayer? What if she didn’t want to catch knives on reflex and lift hundreds of pounds without breaking a sweat? What if she wanted these people to get out of her house and never come back? 

"Wait," Buffy said barely above a whisper. No one heard her. 

Lilah reached over and took Joyce's hand in hers. "I know as a mother this is hard for you. I couldn't imagine what I'd be thinking if someone dropped this kind of news on me. So, I commend you for handling it so well. Both of you," Lilah said. "But take a moment and think about all those times when people have been reported missing. Maybe someone you knew, a friend? Chances are this happened because of a demon, and there was no one there to stop it. But what if there had been? Maybe they'd still be alive today. Buffy is that what if." Lilah leveled her eyes toward Buffy. "You are that what if." 

"Hank..." Joyce said. She was cracking.

"If you'll excuse us." Hank stood to his feet. "Buffy why don't you sit down. Your mother and I will only be a moment," he said and guided Joyce to the hallway outside of the kitchen. 

Buffy avoided eye contact with the two strangers at her kitchen table. Instead, she strained her ears, so she could hear what her parents were saying. 

"...I don't know about this, Joyce," Hank said in a hushed tone. 

"What can we do? Ignore it? Pretend like she isn't the Slayer? How long do you think that will last? That Lilah said Buffy didn't have a choice." 

"What do you think they can do, Joyce? Sue us? Fine. We will get an attorney. She's our little girl. She's not a, a weapon." 

"Hank, you know as well as I do these Slayers don't have a choice. They said it was her destiny. What if she's right? If we prevent Buffy from doing this, innocent people could die. I don't know if I'm willing to shoulder that responsibility." 

"So, what do you propose we do? Sign our daughter's life away? I don't trust these people, Joyce." 

"Neither do I!" Joyce whispered harshly. 

"So, where does that put us?" 

There was a long pause and Buffy shifted uncomfortably in her seat. If she could hear her parents arguing, so could Lilah and Lindsey. 

"So, Buffy," Lilah said. "I hear you're a cheerleader. I was captain of my squad, too. All-state." She smiled proudly. 

Buffy rolled her eyes. She hated when adults did that thing when they tried to be relatable. So, what if Lilah had cheered a million years ago. She was just another adult trying to control her life. 

"Sorry about that," Joyce said, returning to the table. "Would you like more coffee?” She asked the two attorneys, and they both declined. "Hank and I talked it over, and we aren't sure this is something we want Buffy to do. The last Slayer... It just doesn't seem safe." 

"I understand your concerns," Lilah said. "But please rest assured, Wolfram and Hart does everything it can to ensure the Slayer's safety. Unfortunately, the nature of the job can make it challenging. However, we have several things in place that will aid in keeping Buffy safe." 

"Each Slayer receives training from a highly qualified Watcher," Lindsey chimed in. "Additionally, the Slayer is provided a detailed itinerary. We like to call it a slaytinerary. As long as Buffy sticks to it, she'll be fine." 

Hank sighed heavily. "Well, that's a little reassuring... Still, she's only sixteen. A child. My child." 

Lindsey turned to Buffy. "I'm sure you've seen some of India's videos on YouTube. What did you think about them?" 

Finally, someone had included her in the conversation about her life! "Well, she always wins or at least kicks major as-- butt." 

"Right,” Lindsey said. “We've all been sitting here making decisions for Buffy, but none of us asked her what she wants." Lindsey smiled sympathetically at Buffy. “Wouldn't you want to be out there, kicking major butt?” 

That’s right! No one had asked her anything. "I, uh, I don't know...”

After India’s death, Buffy didn’t know what to think about the whole vampire slayer gig. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be the Chosen One. Buffy wasn’t sure she wanted to spend the rest of her life chasing after vampires. She just wanted to graduate high school, go to Europe, marry Harry Styles, and then die. Hopefully at the ripe old age of 95. That may have been too normal for the stiffs in the suits, but it was her life. Buffy looked at her parents for help. 

"How about this," Lilah glanced at her watch, then looked at Lindsey. "Why don't we take them on a slay. There's a cemetery not too far from here." 

"That might be a good idea," Lindsey said thoughtfully. "Of course, it's up to Buffy and Mr. and Mrs. Summers. What do you think Buffy?" 

Buffy still wasn’t sure what to think. Lindsey was the only adult at the table who had considered her opinion. She could go on this one slay, and if they saw her suck at it, maybe they’d leave her alone. "I mean, I guess we can go," she hesitated. Buffy looked at her parents. "If it's okay with you." 

Joyce eyed Hank over Buffy's head, and they communicated silently with their eyes. "Okay, I suppose we can go. But if it gets too dangerous, we're leaving." 

"Of course," Lindsey said obligingly.

Joyce glanced at her daughter. “Buffy, take a jacket, honey. The temperature drops at night,” she said as they headed out the kitchen.

++++

Buffy looked up at the sky and tried to identify the cluster of stars above her head. She didn’t know much about astrology, only that she was a Capricorn on the cusp of Aquarius. Buffy looked down at her fingernails and wondered if her mom would take her to get a manicure if she brought her grades up. After the night she was having, she deserved a little pampering. The cemetery was empty except for Buffy, her parents, and the two Wolfram and Hart attorneys. She couldn’t see them, but she knew they were close by. After an hour of waiting, boredom began setting in. Buffy’s mind drifted to her friends, Tyler, her run-in with Billy Fordham... I guess I won’t be slaying any vampires tonight, she thought just as the ground began to shift beneath her. Buffy sat up straight, her back stiffened in alert. A low moan came from beneath the fresh grave she sat upon. Buffy gripped the stake Lilah had given her and looked around. 

The moans grew louder. Buffy thought she could hear something scraping under the dirt. Nails? The moans grew stronger until it sounded like someone screaming. Buffy jumped at the sound of wood splintering, and a few minutes later a hand pushed through the moist dirt. Frightened, she scrambled away from the fresh grave, clutching a cross in one hand and a stake in the other. The man pushed himself through the ground. His face and clothing were covered in dirt. Buffy recognized the yellow eyes and the ridges on his face. He was a vampire! The demon leaped out of the ground and stalked toward Buffy with a manic look in his eyes. Beneath her, the ground began to rumble again, and another hand shot out of the dirt. It took Buffy a moment to realize the hand belonged to a child. Shocked, Buffy scooted away from the graves. Another grave trembled indicating a third vampire was about to rise. 

_No, no, no, no_, Buffy thought panicked. She was going to die out here. Where were her mom and dad? Why weren’t they helping her? The male vampire laughed at the frightened look on Buffy’s face and loomed over her, his fangs bared. Buffy closed her eyes and braced herself for the pain. But just as she was about to give in to the fear, instinct kicked in. Buffy’s leg shot out, and her foot connected with the vampire’s shin, making a sickening crack. The vampire tumbled to the ground, and Buffy drove her stake through his…stomach! 

“Not the heart.” She panicked. Buffy yanked the sharp piece of wood from the vampire’s gut and plunged it into its heart.

A few seconds later, she was covered in a cloud of dust. Coughing violently, Buffy crawled away from the grave.

But it wasn’t over. By then, a woman had crawled out of the third grave, and she ran toward Buffy with murder in her eyes. Buffy grimaced as the woman plowed into her, knocking her to the ground. She was dead, taken out by this unnamed vampire. A few moments later, Buffy opened her eyes tentatively and looked around. The woman was gone. She had run directly into Buffy’s stake, staking herself. Buffy sat up and dusted herself off. The last vampire had made it out of her grave and was standing a few feet away. She had guessed right, the hand belonged to a child. The little girl was covered in dirt from head to toe, and matted hair covered her face, shadowing it from Buffy’s view. The little girl looked up, her green eyes wide with confusion and fear. 

“I’m so hungry,” she said in a small voice. “I can’t find my mommy and daddy. Can you help me?” the girl asked Buffy. 

Buffy looked around. Were the two vampires she slayed the little girl's parents? A wave of guilt washed over Buffy, and she took a tentative step toward the girl. 

“Buffy, step back,” Lindsey said from behind her. 

“She’s just a little girl,” Buffy said with her back to him. 

“No, she’s not. She’s a demon in a little girl’s body.” 

The child looked up and smiled. She was missing her two front teeth. Buffy couldn’t believe a demon was in there. She was so…small. Maybe they could do something to help her? With an unworldly crunch, the girl’s face contorted into a bumpy ridge across her forehead. She ran toward Buffy, but this time Lindsey intervened, stepping in front of her. He held up his cross, and the little girl hissed before running away. 

Buffy shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. She’d never seen a child vampire before. It was unnerving. “She was so small,” Buffy said in shock. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Lindsey said sympathetically. 

“I didn’t know vampires turned children,” Joyce said, stepping out of the shadows with Hank and Lilah. 

“They usually don’t. But it happens occasionally,” Lilah informed her.

“She was just a baby.” Joyce sniffed back tears. 

“Buffy,” Hank wrapped his arms around his daughter. “Are you alright?” 

Buffy nodded and buried her face in her father’s chest. She was safe now. Joyce clung to both her child and her husband, resting her cheek on Buffy’s head. Buffy looked up from her parents’ embrace. “Is it always like this?” she asked in a tiny voice. 

“No. Tonight was different,” Lilah assured her. “You had to see and know what this world is up against. And why we need you.” 

Buffy thought about the little girl crawling out of her grave. She must have been so afraid. “Alright,” she said firmly. “I’ll do it. I’ll be the Slayer.”


	4. Chapter 4

Lindsey exchanged glances with Lilah as Hank and Joyce comforted their daughter. Lindsey masked the smile on his face by pretending to cough. “Come on, let’s get you back home,” he said to Buffy, leading everyone out of the cemetery. 

The two attorneys were quiet on the drive back to Summers’ residence. They had come prepared with the necessary documents for Buffy and her parents to sign. Both attorneys had been confident in their ability to persuade the young girl and her family to join the Slayer brand. Lindsey had a gift of finessing his way through even the toughest clients. While Lilah often tried to ball-bust her way through. Lindsey didn’t care for the whole knife-throwing bit; that had been too risky in his opinion. But he was able to smooth it over and get the family eating out of the palm of his hand. He knew Lilah was gunning for a promotion, but with missteps like those, she was practically gifting it to him. This was an opportunity to show the senior partners that he had what it took to push Wolfram and Hart even further. Since his last foray with the Slayer didn’t go well, then this was his opportunity to redeem himself. So far, he had been doing a great job. 

“It’s late, Mr. McDonald,” Hank Summers said once they returned to the house. He stood in front of the door, blocking the entrance. 

“We understand, Mr. Summers. But it’s very important we get these documents signed,” Lindsey explained. “Now that Buffy has decided to come on board, you’ll want her to have every benefit, protection, and legal representation that she needs.” 

“Well, I’m still not sure this is the right choice for my family. Let us sleep on it, and then we can get back to you tomorrow.” 

“No, dad. Let’s just get it over with. I’ve already made up my mind,” Buffy interjected. 

Hank glanced at Joyce and she gave him a slight nod. He let out a heavy sigh and stepped aside, allowing the attorneys to enter his home. They followed Hank to the dining room where, a much longer table sat in the middle of the room. 

“I figured you’d need a bigger table,” Hank explained. 

“Good thinking. Thank you.” Lindsey flashed him a smile and winked at Buffy before taking a seat on the opposite side of the Summers family. Lilah sat on the chair beside him and reached into her briefcase. She slid the first document over to him, so they both had a copy. Next, she presented a copy to each member of the family. 

“First things first,” Lindsey began. “This is a nondisclosure agreement. The purpose of this NDA is to ensure everything that's occurred and is discussed this evening stays between the five of us. The NDA stipulates what can and cannot be discussed about this evening or anything else going forward. Please take the time to read it and let us know if you have any questions.” 

Lindsey watched quietly as Hank and Joyce carefully read over the document. They looked up a few minutes later, indicating they were finished. “Do you have any questions?” The couple shook their heads no. “Great. Lilah,” he said looking at his partner. 

Lilah smiled at the family and laid three small stone bowls on the table and along with three fountain pens. “Hand, please,” she said to Hank. 

“Why do you need my hand?” he questioned. 

Lilah pulled out a small needle. “For your signature.” 

Hank was quiet and stared at the bowls for a long time. “Wait, you expect us to sign these contracts in our blood?” 

“Don’t worry, Hank, it’s standard procedure at Wolfram and Hart,” Lilah said in a soothing voice. “We are dealing in matters beyond this world, and these agreements must be solidified securely. Unfortunately, a Bic pen won’t do it.” 

Hank looked over at his wife, and Joyce curled her fingers around his arm; a worried expression creased her face. “I don’t know about this…” 

“Mr. Summers,” Lindsey chimed in. “I know this must all seem foreign to you. But please take comfort in the fact that this is being handled by Wolfram and Hart. Your family--Buffy-- is being represented by the best firm in this country and across several dimensions.” 

“What?” Joyce asked. 

“We’ll explain in further detail at a later time,” Lilah said. “Just know that we wouldn’t do anything to cause harm to you and your family. We’re here for you.” 

Hank looked between the two attorneys. “Alright. Fine,” he said, placing his hand in Lilah’s. 

Lilah pricked his index finger with a large sewing needle and squeezed tiny droplets of his blood into the bowl. She followed the same process for Joyce and Buffy until each bowl was filled with their blood. The family dipped their pens into their respective bowls together. 

“Gross,” Buffy muttered. 

“Sign here and here,” Lindsey instructed, pointing to the signature lines.

“Excellent,” Lilah said with a predatory smile. “Here are blank copies for your reference,” she said, handing each member an unsigned replica of the same document. They continued with the process over the next hour. Each time Hank or Joyce gave them any pushback, Lindsey or Lilah tagged in to quell their fears. Buffy was quiet and reserved throughout, barely saying a word as she signed each document robotically. 

“This is an example of a slaytinerary,” Lindsey explained. “As you can see, it is an itemized schedule of Buffy’s daily activity. It includes time for her academic studies, training, Slayer duties like studying her Slayer Handbook, and slaying. The scheduled slays are chosen based upon Buffy’s skill level, proximity, and threat level of the various demons. As Buffy progresses through her training, the level of threats will increase and become more difficult.

“That makes sense,” Joyce murmured. 

“But you’ll make sure they aren’t too dangerous, right?” Hank asked. “The last slayer died—” 

“Because she went off book,” Lilah said. “Which is the case for most slayers who meet an early demise. As Lindsey stated earlier, as long as Buffy follows the slaytinerary, she'll be fine. Think of it as your Bible, Buffy.” 

“Which reminds me; you all aren’t religious are you?” Lindsey asked. 

“Hank and I were both raised Protestant,” Joyce explained. “But no, we aren’t particularly religious.” 

“Great. We had a Muslim Slayer some years back who refused to hold or wear a cross. Which, of course, was her right. At Wolfram and Hart, we respect all faith-based practices.” 

Buffy raised her hand to speak, “I don’t see cheerleading on this. I’m the captain of my team. I have to be there for practice, competitions and games,” she said. 

“Which brings us to our next order of business,” Lindsey said. “If you all would refer to your contract. I’d like you to look at line item one twenty-five. Because Buffy has missed several years of training, she'll need to dedicate most of her time catching up. Unfortunately, this means any nonessential activities must be eliminated from Buffy’s schedule.” Lindsey looked at Buffy and his lips pressed into a thin, sympathetic smile. “I know that must suck to hear, but we want to make sure you’re ready.” 

Buffy shook her head. “It's not fair. But I'm guessing you really don't care,” Buffy muttered. 

“Additionally,” Lindsey continued. “Wolfram and Hart will handle the remainder of Buffy’s academic studies. She will be provided a qualified private tutor and will finish her school year under the guidance of that tutor.” 

“Now wait a minute,” Hank interjected. 

“Once again, Mr. Summers, this is all for Buffy’s good. It will be difficult for her to maintain her social and academic life at a public school while training. As we mentioned, she will need to go through at least eight weeks of intensive training with her Watcher. Which you all agreed to,” he said pointing to their signatures. “When Buffy has completed her training, and if we feel she has met our level of preparedness, then we can discuss Buffy returning to school for the following school year.” 

“Mr. McDonald, Wolfram and Hart seems to be taking over every aspect of Buffy’s life. I’m not so sure this healthy for her,” Joyce said.

“Well, she could end up dead. That seems more unhealthy than receiving training, so she doesn’t die the first night she’s on her own,” Lilah said. 

“That was a bit harsh,” Lindsey said, undercutting his partner. “What Lilah is trying to say is, these are important steps for Buffy. I’m sure as her parents you’ll appreciate the care that we are taking to ensure her safety.” 

Hank and Joyce looked at one another. “It’s only temporary, Buffy,” Hank said to his daughter. 

“Sounds like I’m being grounded for life.” 

“I doubt you’ll feel that way once you’re asked to do appearances or start getting free shoes and clothes from different sponsors,” Lilah said. 

“Wait, did you say free shoes and clothes?” Buffy asked, perking up for the first time since they started. 

“Yes, that’s one of the perks of being a Slayer. Designers practically trip over each other to get you to wear their clothing. It’s free advertisement for them, and you get to look super cute,” Lilah assured her. 

Buffy sat back in her chair, pacified. “Okay, that doesn’t sound so bad.” 

“Well, discuss the tutoring and training in more detail later. Tonight, let’s try and get through this contract. We don’t have much left,” Lindsey said. “So, as part of Buffy’s contract, she is required to make certain public appearances. She may need to travel. All travel expenses, clothing allowances, and dietary needs will be supplied by the firm. Buffy will go through a complete physical, and we will have a dietitian assist with creating an eating plan based on her nutritional needs. Buffy will also be provided daily supplements and vitamins that she is required to take. These cannot be skipped under any circumstances.” 

“But if I’m already super strong, why do I need to take vitamins and supplements?” Buffy asked. 

“Because strong bones, makes a strong Slayer,” Lilah said. “The vitamins aren’t bad. I take some every day. We can even get them in fruit flavors.” 

“Yummy,” Buffy deadpanned. 

“I’m telling you, Buffy, it’s not as bad as it all sounds,” Lindsey said. “Now come on, let's get through the rest of this. We have some big days ahead of us.” 

++++

Lindsey slid into the driver's side of his Mercedes Benz and grinned at Lilah. They did it; they had gotten the Summers to agree to every term and condition on the contract. The parents were usually compliant. Even the ones who insisted on having their attorneys look it over. “The Senior Partners should be pleased,” he said as he pulled off. 

“Yes. That was easier than I thought it would be,” Lilah agreed. 

“The cemetery clenched the deal. After that, I knew there wasn’t anything in that contract they wouldn’t agree to.” 

Lilah snickered and checked her lipstick in the mirror. “Did you see the mother? ‘That poor baby,’” Lilah whined mimicking Joyce. “I swear, I couldn’t have written that better myself. Nice touch on the vampire family,” she said, flipping the visor back in place. 

“I called in a favor,” he said with a grin. 

“I was expecting one vampire, but a whole family… you’ve outdone yourself.” 

“I told you, Lilah, I want to win.” 

“I see. I always pegged you as a softy, McDonald. That conscience of yours is a weakness that I don’t have. But that little girl…” Lilah shook her head.

“She had leukemia. We did her a favor,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road. 

Lilah shook her head. “Welcome to the big leagues, Lindsey. You’ve finally made it.” 

++++

Lindsey looked out into the city. Most of the people were unaware of the dangers they faced every day. They knew about vampires and demons, sure. But they had no idea how the world worked. He gazed down at the busy street below. They were all just players in Wolfram and Hart’s twisted game. He was, too. Lindsey knew the role he played, but he hoped the game would fall in his favor, so he could reap the benefits. Lindsey planned on taking Buffy to the extent of her limits. He was going to mold her into the model Slayer for Wolfram and Hart. After he made senior partner, Lilah could do what she wanted with her. 

“Knock, knock,” Lilah appeared, tapping on his door. 

Lindsey turned to greet her. “Right on time,” he said looking at his watch. 

“I turned in the contract to Marcus, and he said everything looks great.” Lilah took a seat in front of his desk. “Now, we contact Merrick and get everything into motion.” 

Lindsey pressed a button on his phone and a few seconds later his assistant’s voice filled the room. “Ms. Parker, please get Merrick Smythe on the line.” 

“Yes, sir, Mr. McDonald,” she said. A few moments later, Lindsey heard the soft click of the line switching over. 

“Merrick Jamison-Smythe,” the man greeted them. His accent was clipped and precise. British. 

“Mr. Smythe, this is Lindsey McDonald—” 

“And Lilah Morgan,” Lilah chimed in. 

Lindsey glanced at Lilah and shook his head. “And my colleague, Lilah Morgan.” 

“Yes, yes, I know who you are,” Merrick said. 

“Perfect, then we can cut the introductions short. Mr. Smythe, you’ve been selected as the Watcher for our new Slayer Buffy Summers.” 

“Buffy Summers? I’m not familiar with her.” 

“No, you wouldn’t be,” Lindsey said. “Buffy was only identified as a potential Slayer a few days ago, after India Cohen’s tragic death. After careful consideration, we’ve selected you as the most qualified Watcher for Ms. Summers. We’d like for you to fly out to Los Angeles immediately to begin your duties as her Watcher. Wolfram and Hart will assume responsibility for any expenses incurred. You’ll also receive a monthly stipend on the Wolfram and Hart Company card for you to spend as you please.”

“This Slayer… you say she’s had no training?” 

“No. She’s as green as a fresh spring day,” Lilah interjected. 

“But we’re confident in your ability to train her,” Lindsey said. 

“Well, I’ll have to pack and make preparations for my home and my—” 

“We’ve already purchased your ticket. Your flight leaves at 3 p.m. your time tomorrow. A car will pick you up and drop you off at the airport,” Lindsey said. “Any preparations need to be made before then. If you find yourself unable to meet that deadline, we’ll have someone from the London office assist you after your departure.” 

“That’s rather assuming of you,” Merrick said. 

“We apologize for our haste, Mr. Smythe. But the partners are eager for Buffy to begin her training as soon as possible,” Lindsey said. 

“Surely, there are other qualified Watchers that are closer. Or if you’ll allow me to settle my affairs, I can be in the states within a few days.” 

“Merrick, you’ve trained five Slayers in the past and they've all lived into their 20’s. We chose you for a reason. As I mentioned before, Buffy must begin her training as soon as possible. If you’d rather not be her Watcher, then I’m sure the senior partners can make some accommodations for you.” 

Lindsey waited for a beat. The threat was mild but effective. 

“No, no need, Mr. McDonald. I’ll have my bags packed tonight. I assume I can always send for more of my effects if need be.” 

“Of course you can.” 

“Very well then. I look forward to meeting Buffy Summers.” 

“Terrific,” Lindsey said clapping his hands. “I’ll send you Buffy’s electronic dossier for your review. Please have a look at it and come prepared with any questions you may have. We’ll see you when you arrive,” Lindsey said and disconnected the line. 

Lilah stood and helped herself to a drink from Lindsey’s minibar. “Contracts signed, Watcher on board. Phase two, revealing the Slayer to the public. I was thinking we do a promo spot that will run nationwide through Slayer TV on Youtube. A short sixty-second spot should be enough to generate some interest. Then we begin her training.” 

“Sounds good to me. I’ll make some calls. We’ll need a photographer and videographer. I’m also thinking some billboards off prominent exits on the expressway.” 

“I thought it would be good to show her off at the fundraiser next week. That way some of the shareholders can get a good look at Buffy. We can show the Youtube spot during the event. Plus, it’ll give our little Slayer a taste of the good life. Some of the girls just eat that stuff up.” 

“You’re good at this,” Lindsey complimented her. 

“I’m a woman. Give a girl some couture, and you’ve won her heart.” Lilah looked at her wristwatch. “I’m going to make those calls.” 

Lindsey watched as Lilah retreated from his office. He sat at his desk and picked at the manila file he had on Buffy Summers. It was the first time he really looked at the girl. She was prettier than the last one. India had been an unconventional beauty, but Buffy would appeal to the modern teenager. He and Lilah had to market her in a way that would gain mass appeal. 

Lindsey's phone buzzed, breaking the silence. 

“Hello, Vanessa,” Lindsey answered his cellphone. 

“Lindsey,” Vanessa Brewer said from the other side of the line. “It’s done.”

“Thank you. I’ll wire the rest of the money in a few minutes.” 

“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. McDonald. Until next time,” she said and disconnected the line. 

As promised, Lindsey wired the money into Vanessa’s account for her services. It hadn’t been an expense he accounted for, but he hadn’t planned for the little girl to be turned along with her parents. Lindsey had paid the vampire for the adults. He didn’t know the child would meet the same fate as her parents. If he’d known…Lindsey shook his head. It didn’t matter. It was done. The girl served her purpose in the grand scheme of things. Feeling guilty about her death was counterproductive. He had a Slayer to prepare the world for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to MiseEnPlace for your excellent beta skills! Any remaining mistakes are mine. 
> 
> Vanessa Brewer is a blind assassin who worked for W&H. You can find more info on her character here: https://buffy.fandom.com/wiki/Vanessa_Brewer


	5. Chapter 5

Buffy sat in the backseat of her parent’s car and stared absently out the window. This is really happening, she thought to herself. Buffy recalled the other night at the cemetery. She remembered the way the vampire family had looked and shivered. They had been...ravenous, ready to devour her bit by bit. At that moment, Buffy began to realize how dangerous vampires really were. There were times when kids at school had gone missing, or she had watched some report on the news about a nest in town. But it hadn’t seemed real to her. She had never seen a vampire up close until that night. She hadn’t had to face one. They had India. 

Buffy glanced down at her phone and saw another message appear across the screen. It had only been a week since Wolfram and Hart announced to the world that she was the new Slayer, and she’d been getting bombarded with texts and calls from her friends. She’d even gotten messages from people she didn’t know. Buffy’s parents had eventually changed her number, hoping that would stop the endless amounts of calls. She knew her friends meant well, but she was still processing. Buffy was caught in Wolfram and Hart’s whirlwind and wasn’t sure when she was going to touch down. 

The television spot had been just as confusing as it was exciting. She’d been given the celebrity treatment by everyone involved, including Lilah and Lindsey. It had been fun for the first hour while she was getting her hair and makeup done, but by the fifth hour on set, Buffy began to feel like a circus monkey. 

Make the fire, Cinderelly! 

Wash the dishes, Cinderelly! 

Do a backflip, Cinderelly! 

Stake the vampire, Cinderelly!

By the end of the day, her head was spinning. When she got home, Buffy headed straight to her room and slept the sleep of the unconscious until she had to get up for her last day of public school before moving in with her Watcher full-time. Buffy whispered his name to herself, testing the sound of it on her lips. 

“Everything okay back there, sweetheart?” Hank Summers asked. 

“Yeah, dad. Peachy with a side of keen.” 

Hank frowned in the rearview mirror. “It’s going to be alright, Buffy. Wolfram and Hart promised they’ll take good care of you. And it’ll only be for a few months.”

“You can come and visit us on the weekends,” Joyce chimed in. 

Buffy forced her lips to curve into a stiff smile. She knew her parents meant well, but their forced cheerfulness didn’t make her feel any better. She was quiet for the rest of the drive to her Watcher’s home. She knew it was outside the city in an undisclosed location. Lilah and Lindsey had been adamant about keeping Buffy’s location a secret while she trained. 

“She has a lot of catching up to do, and she’ll need to be completely focused on her training,” Lilah explained to them with her usual syrupy smile. 

Buffy tilted her head back and let out a soft groan when they pulled up to a secluded cabin in the woods. This wasn’t a secret location; this was the middle of Timbuktu. Buffy glanced down at her phone and rolled her eyes. If she squinted, she could almost make out the tiniest of service bars on the screen. She scrolled through her unread messages until she saw one from Kimberly asking her about the pep rally. Buffy quickly typed her response and hit send only to have an error message pop-up a few seconds later. Great! No service, Buffy thought sourly. 

“Here we are,” Joyce said, twisting around to face Buffy. She cast a furtive glance at Hank and gave Buffy a nervous smile. “It looks peaceful here. I’m sure it’ll be nice and quiet. You’ll be able to focus on your school work and slaying.” 

“Let’s have a look around,” Hank followed up. 

Buffy stepped out of the car and looked around. The cabin was surrounded by trees so tall they almost blocked out the sky. Birds sang above her head, hidden in the dense, green leaves. The cabin reminded Buffy of a painting she saw once on a field trip to the museum. 

“What do you think?” Hank asked her. 

Buffy shrugged her shoulders. It was a cabin in the middle of the woods. Nothing good ever came of those. “I have a pep rally on Friday. I wonder if they’ll let me go.” 

“Buffy…” Hank gave her a pained look. 

“You made it!” A woman said, stepping out of the house. “I had hoped the GPS wouldn’t take you on a detour.” 

Buffy looked at the unfamiliar woman and frowned. She thought her Watcher was a guy, an old British guy. Instead, she didn’t look much older than Buffy and stood only a few inches taller than her. 

“I’m Eve,” the woman said, extending her hand to Hank and Joyce. “And you must be Buffy,” she said after shaking their hands. 

“Hi, Eve. Where’s Lilah and Lindsey?” Joyce asked. 

“They had a client. So, they sent me to make sure Buffy gets all settled in. I’ll be serving as Buffy’s liaison during this phase of her training and making sure that everything goes as smoothly as possible.” 

“So you’re not my Watcher?” Buffy asked somewhat disappointed. It would have been nice to have a girl around her own age. 

“Oh, God, no. Merrick is inside. Why don’t you all come in and we can make the introductions,” she said, guiding them into the house. 

Merrick was waiting for them in the small living room with tea. He stood to his feet when Buffy stepped into the room and studied her with shrewd, dark eyes. “So, this is the Slayer,” he said almost to himself. 

“Hi, Mr. Merrick, I’m Joyce Summers, Buffy’s mom,” she said thrusting her hand toward the older man. “And this is Hank, her father.” 

Merrick looked between Buffy’s parents and sniffed. “In my day, there was very little parent involvement. 

Eve coughed out an embarrassed laugh and cleared her throat. “Well, things are a little different now. Don’t mind him,” Eve assured Buffy’s parents. “Some of our seasoned Watchers are still married to the old ways of the council.” 

“Council?” Joyce asked, her tone curious. 

“It’s not important,” Eve rushed, waving her hand dismissively. “Let’s have a tour of the cottage and then we can discuss Buffy’s training schedule and other necessities.” 

Buffy studied her Watcher. She didn’t like the tone of his voice or the way he looked at her as if he was...disappointed. She’d been on the job for barely a week. She hadn’t given him the chance to be disappointed in her yet. Buffy followed the adults around the small house. It smelled woodsy with a hint of peppermint. Eve spoke quickly as she gave them the tour. Buffy stepped into her room and frowned at the plain interior. There was a bed pushed against the wall with a single pillow and a thin, blue quilt on it. There was also a single chest of drawers on the opposite wall with a small round mirror above it. The bare walls made the room look lonely and bleak. 

“I know it isn’t much, but you’ll mostly be here to sleep,” Eve explained and led them out back. “When the weather permits Buffy can do her training out here. At least until the weather gets cooler.” 

“Oh, it’s lovely out here,” Joyce breathed. “Is that a lake back there?” she asked, peeking between the dense leaves. “Look, Hank!” 

“Yes, it is. Wolfram and Hart is committed to making this transition as smooth as possible for Buffy.” 

“Would be better if it was a mall,” Buffy muttered. 

“There won’t be much time for frivolous shopping,” Merrick said. “We have much to do, Buffy. This is important. When the vampires find out who you are...you won’t be hunting them anymore.”

His tone was grave, making Buffy uncomfortable. She shifted and looked down at her feet. “All right,” she said softly. 

“Well,” Eve said, clapping her hands together. “Let’s head back in. Merrick was gracious enough to make us some tea. We have a lot to discuss.” 

They sat around the small coffee table while Merrick poured tea into each of their cups. “As you’re aware, Buffy was notified of her birthright late,” Merrick began once he settled in his armchair. “Her training will be rather rigorous at first until I am satisfied that she is ready.” 

“Don’t you think that’s a bit much? She’s just a girl, a child,” Hank said.

Eve gave him a placid smile. “Why don’t you take a sip of your tea,” she suggested. 

Hank, Joyce, and Buffy lifted their cups in unison and took a sip. 

“Of course, Buffy will still be required to make her public appearances, as well as everything her duties as a Slayer entails,” Eve continued. 

Merrick sniffed and lifted his cup to his lips. “Yes, well, the main priority is to ensure that she is properly trained to face the vampires and de--” 

“They’ve been given the spiel, Merrick,” Eve interjected. “Let’s focus on her schedule.” 

“Right. Each morning Buffy will awake at six a.m,” he said. 

“Six a.m.?! You know it’s unhealthy for a teenage girl to get less than eight hours of sleep,” Buffy said. 

“Precisely,” Merrick agreed. “Which is why your bedtime will be no later than eight-thirty on weeknights.” 

Buffy glared at Merrick before turning to her parents for help. Joyce shrugged helplessly while Hank gave his daughter a thin sympathetic smile. 

“She’ll have a light breakfast,” Merrick continued. 

“Along with her supplements,” Eve said. 

“Yes.” Merrick nodded his head. “We’ll begin her training at seven. At nine a.m. she will have school with the tutor provided by Wolfram and Hart until two p.m. She will then return here for more training. At six o’clock she’ll receive her dinner. After dinner, she will complete her homework assignments and tend to her studies.” 

“Sounds like a blast,” Buffy groused. 

“I’m sure it’s for your own good,” Joyce said. 

“Of course,” Eve assured them. “Once Buffy is done with her initial training, her schedule will become more flexible. That’ll give her an opportunity to interact with the public and make any necessary appearances.” 

Buffy slouched down in her seat and tuned out the adults. She wanted to say something, but they were too busy planning every detail of her life. 

++++

“You're holding back,” Merrick scolded with a frown. He clapped his mittened hands and held them a few inches from his body. “Try again. This time don’t hold back.” 

Buffy balled up her fist and hit the punching pads with all her might, sending Merrick staggering back. “Better?” she asked, her tone glib. 

“Much,” Merrick said with a sniff. 

Buffy took a swig of her water and studied her watcher for a moment. The morning fog had cleared out, leaving the morning warm and humid. “What’s your deal anyway?” Buffy asked, recapping her bottle. 

“My deal?” 

“Yeah. Like where are you from. I mean obviously, you’re from Britain. But how did you become a Watcher? No one ever says they want to watch teen girls on career day.” 

Merrick shook his head and peeled off his mitts. “No, I don’t suppose they do.” He paused thoughtfully. “I come from a family of Watchers. My father was a Watcher and his father before him.” 

“So, you’re, like, keeping it in the family?” 

“You could say that.” 

“Got any kids?” Buffy asked casually. He looked like the grandfatherly type, wrapped in tweed and old man energy. 

Merrick grew quiet. A far off look clouded his eyes before he responded with a brisk, “Break’s over. We don’t have much time before your tutoring session.” 

“Geez. All slay and no play makes a dull Merrick,” Buffy grumbled. 

“And hopefully a Slayer who will outlast her predecessor. I hope you understand the gravity of your calling, Buffy. The world depends on you.” 

Buffy rolled her eyes. How many times was she going to have to listen to that playbook? She got it. She was the Chosen One. “Right. I have to slay the vampires.” 

“And demons,” Merrick added. 

Buffy blinked her eyes rapidly. “No one mentioned anything about demons.” 

Merrick glanced around furtively. “There’s much that you don’t know, Buffy. However, we’ll cover the basics first.”

“Wait a minute. You can’t start that conversation and just, you know,” Buffy waved her hand. 

Merrick sighed and pulled out his pocket watch. “I suppose you’ve earned a reprieve. Have a seat,” he directed her to sit down on a wooden bench. “Slayers aren’t just called to fight vampires. There are other...entities in this world that can be far more dangerous.” 

“India killed-- slayed this thing once. It didn’t really look like a vampire.” 

“It was a demon.” 

“Well, I saw it on Youtube and it didn’t look very scary.” 

Merrick was quiet for a moment as if he was deciding on how much he should tell his new charge. “Things are not always as they seem, Buffy. The longer you do this, you’ll see for yourself.” 

“Geez, Merrick, heavy with cryptic much?” 

“Your butchering of the English language never ceases to amaze me.” 

“And your ability to suck the fun out of everything continues to amaze me,” Buffy retorted, making Merrick’s lips twitch into a slight smile. “Wow, you can smile. See, that wasn’t too bad, was it?” 

Merrick shook his head. “You need more work on your defensive strikes. Shall we?” He said, rising to his feet. 

++++

The black DeSoto bounced over the rough terrain for several miles, before the road evened out once again. Spike glanced up at his rearview mirror and watched the family sleeping soundly in the back seat. He had picked them up on the side of the road as they trekked across the border from whatever godforsaken country they had come from. Spike didn’t know what compelled him to pull over and give them a ride. He wasn’t hungry, and the idea of feeding on the family wasn’t appealing at all. Small children and the helpless had been Dru’s thing. Spike had always preferred his food to have a little fight. Perhaps it was the idea of the family dying of exposure in the middle of the desert that compelled him to stop. If they were going to die, they should at least have a fighting chance. He was headed back stateside after his nasty breakup with Dru, and they were trying to make their way to the land of the free and the home of the brave. So, he'd given them that chance.

The father looked to be in his mid-thirties. His skin was deeply tanned and haggard after days of traveling by foot under the hot sun. He was with his wife and their small child. Spike guessed the kid was around five or six. He couldn’t be sure. He had been unwed before he died and had never experienced fatherhood. The father had told him in broken English that they were trying to get to their family to California; there was work waiting for him.

Spike stuck a cigarette loosely between his lips and rummaged through some trash for his Zippo lighter. 

“Please,” a soft voice said from the backseat. 

Spike looked up again and watched the mother wrap her arms protectively around her child. 

“What?” Spike asked incredulously. 

She puckered her lips and motioned to the cigarette in his mouth. 

“This?” Spike asked while removing it from between his lips. It took him a moment to realize that she was concerned about her child getting the second-hand smoke. “Right,” Spike said, shaking his head. He rolled down his window and tossed it out. 

“Thank you, señor,” she whispered and closed her eyes again.

He rode with the family for several more days through Mexico. They never questioned his strange way of traveling or his frequent disappearing acts. The family rode quietly in the back seat, occasionally chatting softly with each other. They slept through the night, only waking when the ride took some rough turns. Spike had grown accustomed to the smell of their food and their soft whispers from the back seat. 

They reached Baja, California border, just after dusk. Spike wasn’t worried about the border patrol. He had enough green to grease their palms and keep them quiet. In a matter of moments, he was driving across the U.S. border into California with the family tucked safely in the backseat. 

“Well, here we are in the good ol’ U.S. of A,” Spike announced. The DeSoto rumbled across the rocky pavement into the small, dusty town just across the border. 

The little girl in the backseat pressed her nose to the window and stared out into the night. Spike pulled his car into a small gas station. He spotted a bar across the street with a blinking neon sign that read, “South of the Border.” It had been a while since he had a drink. Guadalupe didn’t allow alcohol in front of her daughter. 

“Looks like we’ve made it to the end of the line,” he said cheerily as he parked the car. 

“Thank you, sir,” the father said. He made the sign of the cross several times and lifted his head to the heavens. “Thank you.” 

“No thanks necessary, mate. What kind of sod would I be to let you all die on the side of the road?” Spike looked down the small main street and nodded toward a motel. It didn’t look like much, but he was sure it was better than the desert. “There’s a motel down the way,” he said. “Shouldn’t be too expensive.” 

The family gathered their meager belongings and continued to thank him profusely, making him uncomfortable. He wasn’t trying to be good. He had helped them because he saw no use in dying of starvation in the wilderness. 

“Well, go on. Get!” Spike said, shooing them away. 

He was stunned when the little girl tugged on his jeans and lifted her tattered, stuffed rabbit toward him. “You want me to have it?” he asked. The little girl nodded. Spike shook his head. Must be getting soft in my old age, he thought to himself. 

He crouched down until he was eye level with the girl. He reached behind her ear and produced a half-dollar piece. The silver coin gleamed under the lamplight, and the girl gasped in surprise. She took the coin from Spike and trotted over to her parents. Spike watched them for a few moments before he headed toward the bar. 

The inside of South of the Border was as dusty as the small town outside its doors. Spike took a seat at the bar next to an Abarax demon in a poor skin suit and ordered a whiskey neat from the human bartender. He drank it in one gulp and ordered another. Spike glanced at the television above the bar just as the football match went to commercial break. He wasn’t sure what he was looking at until a slight girl with blonde hair appeared on the screen. 

The Slayer. 

He sat at the bar captivated by the Slayer. It had been some years since he had come face-to-face with a Slayer. His last one had been Nikki Wood back in the ’70s. Spike thought back on that night fondly. He had won his most prized position during that brawl, his black leather duster. The coat never left his body no matter the season. He had bested one of the most skilled Slayers he had ever had the pleasure to face in a fight, and the coat was his reward. Back then Slayers weren’t some popstar touted around by the likes of Wolfram and Hart. They were fierce warriors, chosen to even the score between good and evil. These days they were reduced to nothing more than a gimmick. Didn’t the last one have a clothing line in Walmart? He thought snidely. 

“She’s prettier than the last one,” the Abarax said gruffly. 

Spike watched her do a series of flips across the screen and land confidently with a stake in her hand. 

“I’m Buffy Summers. I am the Slayer,” she said, staring directly into the camera. 

Buffy, Spike thought with a smirk. It was an odd name. But then again, the Slayer wasn’t an ordinary girl. He whispered the name under his breath, testing it. Buffy. He liked it. The name suited the slight girl on the television screen. Under the powerful façade, he saw the unsureness in her stance. Anyone could follow a script, but they couldn’t fake confidence. 

“She’s a hot piece. I’d love to have a crack at her,” the Abarax said. 

Spike’s chest tightened and his lips curled into a sour sneer. He wasn’t sure why the Abarax’s words bothered him so much. He took another swig of his drink and ignored the demon. 

“It’s a shame she’s in Lothos’s territory,” it said, shaking his head. 

“Lothos?” Spike’s head jerked back in disbelief. “That wanker’s still around?” 

He had met the vampire once many years ago in London. Back then Lothos had been calling himself a “master vampire.” After spending a few days in his company, Spike had pegged him as nothing more than a grifter. He wasn’t a fan of older vampires claiming the master title. There was only one master vampire that he knew of, and that poor sod was trapped under a church somewhere. 

“Yeah. Didn’t you hear? He offed the last Slayer. That India chick.” 

Spike shook his head. “So, he bagged himself a Slayer. Bravo.” 

“Hey, he’s a big deal here in California. Like I said, if it wasn’t for Lothos, I’d be heading to L.A. right now. Rumor has it this Slayer didn’t even know she was a Slayer. Can you believe that? She’s fresh off the farm, untrained and untested. Easy pickings.” 

Spike rolled his eyes. Well, that’s no fun. What was the use of facing a Slayer who didn’t know how to fight? Now he understood her lack of confidence. Unlike the other girls, she hadn’t been properly groomed for the Slayer life. Spike almost felt sorry for her. 

“Sounds like a drag, mate. I prefer my Slayers a little more experienced.” 

The Abarax shrugged. “Yeah, well, I don’t have a death wish.” 

Spike finished his drink and placed a few bills on the counter. He hadn’t planned on going to Los Angeles straight away. He had a debt to collect in Roswell. But the idea of the new Slayer with no training intrigued him. He had no interest in challenging her. Spike meant what he said to the Abarax. If he was going to kill another Slayer, he wanted it to be worth the kill.

Spike stepped out into the balmy night and inhaled deeply. He smelled a hint of blood in the air and followed the scent until he reached a narrow alley a few yards from the bar. Spike paused at the opening and spotted a stuffed rabbit laying on the ground by a dumpster. He stepped into the alley and crouched down to pick it up. Spike squinted into the darkness until his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. They were slumped together against the wall. Spike stood over their bodies and eyed the gashes at their throats. They had been in the U.S. less than an hour before meeting their demise. Spike shook his head. 

“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,” he muttered and tucked the stuffed rabbit under the girl's arm. If they were lucky, they’d rise again, Spike thought and headed back to his car. He didn’t allow himself to think of the family for too long. 

He was going to see about a girl.


	6. Chapter 6

She was changing. Buffy studied herself in the mirror and tilted her head to the side. Pursing her lips, she eyed the newly formed muscles on her arms and legs. Sure, cheerleading made her strong, but this was different. This type of training went far beyond anything she’d done in gymnastics. These were muscles gained from kicking major ass. Training with Merrick was intense, and Buffy was learning fast. Merrick often commented on her natural abilities while trying hard not to compliment her.

“That was impressive. The tumbling…” he had said to her one afternoon during their training session.

“Oh, I used to do gymnastics.”

Buffy had shrugged off the compliment, but Merrick’s acknowledgment made her feel like she wasn’t some second-string loser. She knew she was a late bloomer on the whole Slayer spectrum, and her Watcher’s praise made her banishment almost bearable. Merrick wasn’t that bad, and training was sorta fun sometimes, Buffy thought.

Still, she missed her friends and her old life. There were times when she longed to hang out at the promenade or hit the mall with Kimberly and Nicole. She often daydreamed about going on dates with Tyler. Ugh, Tyler! He tried calling her once, but the connection had been so bad they couldn’t talk very long. He hadn’t tried calling her since. Pike had texted her a few times. She wouldn’t have minded hanging out with him even if Benny tagged along. Most days, Buffy had to remind herself that she was doing something important. She was looking forward to actually slaying something.

Through it all, Buffy could almost see the silver lining if she squinted hard enough. Lilah had been right about the perks. The highlight of her week was Eve delivering packages to her from Fashion Nova, Nike, and a few brands she had never heard of before.

“Wouldn’t you just love me in this?” Buffy asked Merrick while shrugging on a yellow, leather biker jacket.

Merrick briefly looked up from the book in his lap and eyed her vacantly. “Have you read your Slayer Handbook today?

Buffy rolled her eyes. “You mean that dusty old thing? I’m no Barnes and Noble, but spelling the title wrong has to be like a big no-no.”

“The title isn’t misspelled, Buffy. It’s in German.”

“Oh, well, I don’t speak German. But I can say 'library' in Spanish.”

Merrick shook his head and placed his book aside. “You haven’t opened the book, have you?”

“See, I was going to, but then something much more interesting happened,” Buffy said. She slid out of her new jacket and laid it on the back of an armchair. “Would it kill you Watcher types to invest in audiobooks?”

“Knowing your duties as a Slayer is required, Buffy. You cannot do that if you shirk your responsibilities,” he said, ignoring her.

“Geez, a little sliver of slack would be nice. Three weeks ago I wasn’t thinking about vampires. I didn’t think about anything, really,” she muttered.

“What do you want? Encouragement?” Merrick said, rising to his feet. “Gosh, Buffy,” he began in a bad American accent. “You’re so special, just want to give you a great big hug. Oh, I’m just having a warm fuzzy.”

Buffy frowned and crossed her arms protectively over her chest.

“Do you know how many girls I’ve trained as Slayers? Five. Five properly prepared girls. Girls who faced their responsibilities, who worked hard to become women overnight-- harder than you’ve ever worked in your life. And I saw them ripped apart. Do you want to live? Do you?"

“I--”

“What did you think? Being able to jump about and hitting people makes you a Slayer?"

Buffy shrugged. Well, didn’t it? That’s what India and all the girls did on television. Why was he being so freaking hard on her? “Well…” She wasn’t sure what to say to her Watcher. She’d never seen him get this frustrated with her before. “Five?” she asked, lifting her brow.

“Five,” Merrick repeated.

“So, basically, I’ve got the life expectancy of a zit. Great.”

“Not if you’re careful, Buffy. And if you heed to my tutelage, then you might outlast the others.”

Buffy slumped down into the armchair. “Ripped apart, huh?” She shook her head. “How can you keep doing this?”

“It’s what I was raised to do. There aren’t many of us left… true Watchers, that is. There are some of us who--” Merrick closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to...I shouldn’t go into this,” he said, glancing around furtively.

Buffy started to press, but noticed the uneasiness in her Watcher’s eyes and stopped. She didn’t always get along with Merrick, but she didn’t want him to get into trouble or something.

“I’ll try to read my book,” Buffy promised. “But you’ve got to do something for me.”

Merrick lifted a brow and waited for her request.

“Get me out of this house. I’m feeling all hermit-y.”

Merrick shook his head. “You read, and I’ll think about it.”

“Deal!” Buffy said, smiling at her small victory.

++++

The house was quiet. Merrick was aware of the moment Buffy had gone to bed. That infernal pop music she liked to listen to while she was supposed to be studying had quieted for the night. He thought about his young ward and frowned. Out of all the Slayers he had trained in his lifetime, Buffy was his biggest challenge. She was impudent and willful. She questioned his methods at every turn and...she was exactly the type of Slayer that could turn Wolfram and Hart on their head.

Merrick still didn’t understand why Quinton Travers had allowed the law firm to take control of the Watcher’s council. He was one of the few who had stood firmly against allowing the devil in their door, but there hadn’t been enough Watchers to stand against Wolfram and Hart. Anyone who tried to resist later regretted that decision. Merrick had been on the cusp of retirement when the takeover happened. Before getting the call from Lilah and Lindsey, he hadn’t trained a Slayer in half a decade. Merrick wasn’t sure how he had gotten on their radar, but somehow they had chosen him to be Buffy’s Watcher. And he failed her each and every day.

The firm had given him strict instructions to follow their training regimen, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. They were killing Buffy by weakening her abilities with their pills and other nonsense, and he had taken an oath to protect the Slayer at all costs. For that reason, he was harder on her than he had been on the others. He deviated from the firm’s rules to train her in the traditional way. Of course, he had to do it in secret, away from Eve’s watchful eyes. Merrick knew they were still keeping tabs on them, and eventually, he would get caught. But in the meantime, he did what he could to ensure Buffy was properly trained.

Merrick walked past Buffy’s room and listened quietly outside of her door. He could hear the faint sounds of her whimpers as she slept. He knew some potentials experienced the prophetic dreams from childhood, while others didn’t gain that ability until they were chosen. Merrick had noticed a change in her sleep pattern a few nights ago...when he had stopped crushing those little pink pills in her breakfast. From the start, Merrick had had a feeling that they were much more than supplements, and his intuition had been correct. Whatever they were forcing him to feed Buffy had been suppressing her dreams and making her more compliant. She was far less...opinionated while on them.

Merrick slipped into his bedroom and reached in his pockets. He studied the weeks worth of pills in the palm of his hands guiltily. The council's complacency had reduced him to Wolfram and Hart's puppet, and Buffy… Buffy was nothing more than fodder for world entertainment. Merrick dumped the pills into his toilet and flushed.

Regardless of what the firm wanted him to do, the Slayer was his responsibility, and he could not fail her.

++++

After weeks of living in the boonies, Buffy’s morning routine was set. It was like that movie her parents liked so much with Bill Murray. Groundhog Day, Buffy thought. Every day felt like a repetition of the last. She got up at the butt crack of dawn, trained with Merrick for a few hours, ate breakfast, and by eight she was carted off to Wolfram and Hart for her private tutoring sessions. Buffy hadn’t been kidding when she asked Merrick for some time away from the cabin. She’d been in full Slayer mode for weeks and longed to feel like a human again.

"Eggs Benedict," Merrick announced, placing a plate of eggs and fruit in front of her.

Buffy stared at the goopy eggs on her plate and frowned. “They look runny,” she complained.

“They’re softly boiled,” Merrick said, taking a seat across from her at the table. “Try the hollandaise sauce. It’s quite good.”

Buffy watched him cut into his eggs, eyeing the yolk as it spilled over onto his toast. “At home, mom made me french toast sticks for breakfast.”

Merrick sighed and put his fork down. “Perhaps you should make that suggestion to Ms. Eve when she picks you up for your tutoring today. Otherwise, we eat what’s on the menu.”

Buffy pushed her eggs around with her fork and picked at her toast. She doubted Eve would take anything she wanted into consideration. All Eve cared about was Buffy’s progress and diet, especially all those disgusting pills she had to take every day. Merrick had been kind enough to crush them into her food for her, but she noticed that day he had skipped that part of their morning ritual today. Buffy didn’t mind. The pills made her feel funny.

“What do you do all day while I’m gone?” Buffy asked as she buttered her toast.

“I study.”

“Oh. What do you study?”

“Are you always this inquisitive in the morning?”

Buffy took a bite of her toast. “Sheesh, I’m just trying to get to know the guy who's supposed to be watching me.”

Merrick was thoughtful for a moment. “I study my Watcher’s guide, prophecies, and the Watcher’s diaries.”

“Wait. You keep a diary about me?” Buffy asked, her interest piqued. “Can I read it?”

“I’m afraid not. Those are private.”

“But it’s about me. Shouldn’t I know what--”

Buffy was interrupted by the sound of a car alarm chime out front, indicating that Eve had arrived to transport her back to the firm’s office. She pushed her plate aside and stood from the table.

“The warden has arrived,” Buffy said, rolling her eyes.

“We’ll resume your training when you return this afternoon.”

A few minutes later, Eve breezed into the kitchen, interrupting their conversation. “Good morning, Merrick, Buffy,” she said with a placid smile. “Breakfast looks delicious. Did you take your vitamins today?” she asked Buffy.

Buffy stole a brief glance at Merrick and gulped down her orange juice. “Yeah,” she lied with a shrug. “Which I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. Do they come in gummy flavors like berry or orange?”

“I can look into that,” Eve said while Buffy gathered her backpack. “We’ll be back at two,” she said to Merrick as they walked out the door.

Buffy took one last look at her Watcher before following Eve to her car. She got the feeling that if she hadn’t covered for him, Merrick would have had hell to pay. He wasn’t exactly the warm and fuzzies kind of guy, but her gut told her she had done the right thing.

“How’s training?” Eve asked once they were alone.

Buffy shrugged and stared out of the window. “Good, I guess.”

“But you’re learning a lot? And Merrick is--”

“Merrick is great. I train every day. You could even say it’s jam-packed with training.”

“I understand this isn’t the most exciting part, Buffy. But it’s for your own good.”

“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” Buffy grumped.

“Once we feel your training has progressed, then you’ll see.”

“When do I actually get to, you know, slay?”

“When you’re ready,” Eve assured her.

Buffy stared at Eve for a moment and debated on whether or not to tell her about the dreams. She had meant to talk to Merrick about them over breakfast but had gotten sidetracked over the diaries. She remembered Lindsey mentioning dreams that night in her kitchen back in L.A. Buffy hadn’t given it a second thought until that morning. Most of the dreams had been weird and hard to remember, but she recalled the bits where she was fighting off a vampire before it killed her. Buffy shivered at the memory.

“Something the matter, Buffy?” Eve asked and turned down the air conditioning.

Buffy shook her head. “No. Just caught a chill,” she said with a thin smile.

++++

“So, where are we going?” Buffy asked as she strapped herself into the passenger side of Merrick’s compact car.

“You mentioned something about wanting to get out. I’ve thought about it, and you made a convincing point. Perhaps a change of scenery will do us both some good.”

“Wow. And he admits I’m right. Where’s Merrick and what have you done with him?” Buffy teased.

“You do on occasion have good ideas,” Merrick said as he pulled onto the road. “As few and far between as they may come.”

“Haha,” Buffy deadpanned and fiddled with the radio.

“The uptick in Vampire sightings in the Los Angeles area is ridiculous.” The Dj’s brash voice filled the car.

Buffy dropped her hand and slumped back in her seat. She hadn’t listened to live radio since the day her parents handed her over to Wolfram and Hart.

"Where’s that Buffy Summers chick?" He continued.

“Perhaps you should change the channel,” Merrick suggested.

Buffy shook her head. No, she needed to hear what people were saying about her. The voice on the radio was her only connection to the outside world.

“I know! They give us one lousy commercial and then nothing for weeks while that Lothos guy is treating the streets of L.A. like an all you can eat buffet,” A woman’s voice answered.

"Where the hell did she come from anyway? All that hype and I don’t feel any safer.”

“Please, Johnny, you stay in a building with a doorman. I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.”

“Hey, last time I checked vampires don’t discriminate. All I’m saying is where is the Slayer? She’s supposed to be the Chosen One. So, why isn’t she acting all choseny?

“Well, you do have a point. Let’s open the lines and see what our listeners have to say. Frankie and Johnny--”

Merrick reached over and turned off the radio.

“Hey! I was listening to that,” Buffy said.

“I think it’s best you don’t. Public opinion can be...they don’t understand the burden that you carry, Buffy. Why don’t you tell me about your studies.”

“Or you can tell me about that Lothos. Wasn’t he the vampire that...You know.” Buffy lowered her eyes, unable to bring herself to say India’s name. It was all so macabre, thinking about the previous Slayer. She was the reason why Buffy was in her predicament.

“Lothos is...a very old and very powerful vampire,” Merrick began after a pregnant pause. “He’s killed many Slayers in his long history, and I suspect that he’ll be hunting you next.”

“Great,” Buffy huffed. “Are there any other vampires that have me on the dinner menu?”

“In a manner of speaking...they all do. But few are skilled enough to best a Slayer.”

“So, I’ve got a whole world of vampires after me. How is that fair? There’s only one of me and like thousands of them.”

“It’s not fair. That’s why you train.”

Buffy looked down at her chipped nail polish. They were a mess. I’m a mess, she thought with disgust and flipped the visor back in place. And apparently Vampire’s Most Wanted.

“This Lothos guy sounds pretty heavy,” she said after a few moments of silence. “Are there any other Dracula types that I should be looking out for?”

“Well, there’s Dracula.”

“He’s real?”

“Very much so,” Merrick answered her. “But don’t believe the hype, as you kids often say.”

“Kids haven’t said things like, ‘don’t believe the hype’ since the 90s.” Buffy rolled her eyes. “Okay, so, there’s Dracula. Who else?”

Merrick paused and pulled the car into an overgrown field. Buffy didn’t recognize where they were, but it looked like an abandoned farmhouse.

“The Aurelians. But we’ll get to them soon. Right now, let’s focus on one threat at a time.”

“Sure. But what are we doing here? Because it’s kind of a dump.”

“You wanted to get out, so here we are. I’m under strict orders not to bring you out in public places until Wolfram and Hart deem it appropriate.”

“So, you brought me to the Bizarro world Kent farm?”

“I thought it would be best if we spoke in private. The cabin is… we have a better opportunity to speak frankly here.”

“Wow. Way to make big with the cryptic,” Buffy said, climbing out of the car.

Buffy read the crooked sign hanging over the dilapidated entrance of the old farmhouse. She imagined that once upon a time, it had been a nice place to live. Presently, it was one step away from featuring in a horror flick.

“So, what are we doing here?” Buffy asked, following Merrick toward the back of the old farmhouse.

“Intensifying your training.” Merrick threw the doors to the old barn open, revealing an obstacle course.

“I thought my training was already pretty intense,” Buffy said, looking around.

“You’ve been having dreams, haven’t you?” Merrick said, ignoring her.

“How did...Lindsey mentioned something about dreams before. I thought he was just making it up. But-- well, a few nights ago I started having them.”

“Then we don’t have much time.”

“Wait. What?”

“Those aren’t just any dreams, Buffy. They are usually prophetic. Do you remember anything about them?”

Buffy tried to remember the dream she had the night before, but things were kind of muddled. “There was blood. Lots of blood. I was crying. But I don’t know why.”

Merrick tapped his lips with his long, thin finger thoughtfully. “The more you dream, the clearer they’ll become. From now on I want you to try to concentrate on remembering your dreams. Write them down if you must.”

“Sort of like your Watcher’s Diary,” Buffy said, reminding him that she hadn’t forgotten their conversation from earlier.

“You’re persistent,” Merrick said with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“You don’t win all-state two years in a row without a little tenacity.”

Merrick studied his Slayer for a few moments. “I’ll show you the diaries, but in return, you must follow my guidance and not question my methods. And under no circumstances can you tell anyone about this place.”

“You sound a bit dictator-y,” Buffy said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Those are my stipulations.”

He wasn’t being unreasonable, and Buffy was already pretty much falling into line with his methods anyway. “Okay,” she said with a shrug. Buffy still didn’t understand why Merrick was being so cryptic, but she figured she could get it out of him sooner or later. “But I also get to ask you some questions, and you have to answer them.”

“That depends on the questions.”

Buffy decided to start easy. “So, I know Dracula is real. Are there any other famous vampires?”

Merrick thought for a moment. “Joseph Mengele, Franklin Pangborn... are any of those names familiar?” Merrick answered. He seemed relieved that Buffy had moved on to a less controversial topic of conversation.

“If I say 'no' does that make me a bad person?” Buffy answered sheepishly.

“Good Lord. What do you study in history?” He sounded appalled.

“My nails. Which are looking rough these days.”

“All right. You've heard of the emperor Caligula, perhaps? Or Jack the Ripper?”

“They were vampires?” Her interest piqued again.

“Same one.”

“Oh. I was hoping you’d say Pharrell or Keanu Reeves. They could totally pass as vampires.”

“Who?”

Buffy shook her head. “Never mind,” she said and rolled her eyes. She glanced around the barn again. “So, now that we’re aware that you don’t follow current events at all. Now what?

“We get started. You’ve dawdled long enough,” Merrick said with a sniff.


	7. Chapter 7

Buffy pushed herself harder, raising her knees to her chest as she sprinted across the old tires Merrick had set up in their barn. A slick sheen of sweat formed on her brow and dripped into her eyes. Buffy blinked away the moisture and darted toward the next obstacle. 

“You’re slowing down, Buffy!” Merrick called from across the enclosure. 

A determined looked flashed across her face, and with a burst of energy, Buffy dropped into a squat. She had seen the tires in a cross-fit class. They always looked massive, intimidating. A soft grunt escaped between her lips as she lifted the tire and pushed it over. Once. Twice. Three times. 

With her hands on her hips, Buffy panted out, “How’d I do?” 

“Five seconds slower than your last time,” Merrick said, looking down at his stopwatch. 

Buffy wiped the back of her hand across her brow and rolled her eyes. “It’s not about how fast you win the race, but how you cross the finish line.” 

Merrick frowned as he tucked the watch into his pocket. “While the sentiment fits nicely on one of those… those meme things, Buffy, this is real life.” 

Buffy grabbed a towel and slumped down on an old wooden chair. “It was five seconds, Merrick. Geez, cut a girl some slack.” 

“Slack will only—” 

“I know, I know,” Buffy huffed and stood to her feet. “Do you want me to do it again?” 

Please say no. Please say no, Buffy begged silently. 

“I think that’s enough for today,” he said with a shake of his head. “Let’s get back to the cabin before we draw too much attention to ourselves.” 

Buffy nodded and gathered her gym bag. Over the past few weeks, she had grown accustomed to their private training sessions away from Wolfram and Hart’s watchful eyes. Buffy knew Merrick worried about the lawyers; she did, too. There was something about them that didn’t feel right, and the knot of uneasiness in her stomach grew every time she was near them. 

“All this extra training…” Buffy began when they were back on the road again. “It’s because of that Lothos guy, right?” 

Merrick gave her a sideways glance and tightened his fingers around the steering wheel. 

“I know those Wolfram and Hart guys aren’t telling me everything, but I’m thinking if I want to live to the ripe old age of twenty, I should probably know what I’m up against, especially if he keeps making with creepiness in my dreams.” 

“You’ve seen him in your dreams?” Merrick asked, his head whipping around to look at her. 

Buffy nodded slowly. “I mean, I think it’s him.” 

A thick silence settled between them as Merrick drove for a few more miles. “Tell me.” 

“I was in my room… my real room. It was night, and I was getting ready for bed. He was there waiting for me. I didn’t see him, but I know he was there. I could feel him watching me. There was a red ribbon on my dresser, so I tied it in my hair and then I walked over to my bed. He was still there, waiting for me. And when I laid down, he put his arms around me. He didn’t say nothing. But I know it was him, Merrick.” Buffy paused for a moment and a frown creased her brow. “Can vampires—can they visit me in my dreams?” 

“There are a few who have more abilities than others. While this is rare, it can happen… usually with the help of magic.” 

“Great. So… now I have to worry about some creepy thousand-year-old vampire groping me in my dreams, too.”

Merrick winced and cleared his throat. “I was afraid of this. He’s toying with you, Buffy.” 

“Well, I’ll bring the games to him. Tell me what I need to know.” 

“Lothos was probably born in the eleventh or twelfth century; he’s been difficult to trace. His power has increased with age.”

“That’s how he’s able to do the whole dream master thing, huh?”

“It will be a long while before you are ready to face him,” he continued. “But he is still a vampire, still vulnerable like the rest of them. Daylight is still an enemy… a stake can still find his heart. It is essential you train even harder now, Buffy. He has marked you. He will come for you soon.” 

“Yeah, I kind of get that part. But if Lothos is so dangerous and training is so important, why isn’t Wolfram and Hart, I don’t know—freaking out? He’s already killed a Slayer. I guess I’m trying to say that I’m glad you’re helping me and all, but shouldn’t they do something about him? Isn’t like, keeping me safe in my contract?” 

Merrick heaved out a tired sigh. “Buffy, you don’t understand—” The car jerked to a hard stop as Merrick shifted the car into park.

“Oh, I understand,” Buffy said, and slammed the passenger door behind her. “Lothos is terrorizing people—terrorizing me, but as long as I can pose for a magazine or something, you don’t care.” 

“Buffy, stop!” Merrick called out behind her, his voice firm, making her freeze in her tracks. 

Buffy turned around to face him, her face red with unchecked emotion, and her heart thudded beneath her chest. She never asked for this! And now an old and powerful vampire was haunting her dreams, marking her. Merrick said it himself; she wasn’t strong enough to face him. 

“I care,” Merrick admitted. “That’s why I’ve been training, preparing you for what’s to come. We will continue to train, build your strength and your endurance. You will gain the skills you need as a Slayer, and when you do, you will be ready to face him.” 

Buffy narrowed her eyes at the Watcher. She knew Merrick wasn’t telling her everything. He laced his words with hidden meaning, but she believed him. “Okay,” Buffy agreed before following him in the cabin. 

***

Lilah flipped through the report Eve handed to her, scanning the pages before meeting her gaze again. “You’ve been a busy little bee, Evie.” 

“Eve,” she corrected her. “Well, someone has to do your jobs.” A cold smile played at the corner of her lips. 

“What Lilah is trying to say is, thanks for being an extra pair of eyes,” Lindsey interjected as he slid the file across the table. 

Lilah stifled the urge to snort. Just when she gained some respect for the guy, he reminded her why she didn’t like him. She didn’t need a babysitter, and she didn’t need any help from Eve. The arrogant little bitch had a way of lording her position as a liaison to the senior partners over everyone’s heads. Eve didn’t know it yet, but her days were numbered. As soon as she made partner, Lilah had plans to ship Eve back to the mailroom where she belonged. 

“How is the Chosen One?” Lindsey asked with a mocking smirk. 

“She’s progressing through her training well. Merrick is keeping in line with the program the partners have designed for her.” 

“Good. I had anticipated more push back from him,” Lilah said. 

“Merrick is a traditionalist,” Eve agreed, “but he’s no fool. Self-preservation has always been a strong motivator.” 

“Good.” Lilah clapped her hands together. “I don’t want any trouble out of him or her.”

“You worry too much, Lilah,” Lindsey said. “I told you this guy is on the up and up. I happen to be an excellent judge of character.” 

Lilah choked down a sip of water and bit back her laughter. “Your record is outstanding.” 

Lilah strummed her finger against her desk and absently chewed on her bottom lip. If everything Eve said was true, then it was time to move on to the next phase with Buffy. She had spent hours watching the training videos Eve had captured over several weeks. The girl was tough, and she could fight. Of course, she wasn’t as polished as the other Slayers. Her fighting style was still raw and unfinished. She’s no, Kendra, Lilah thought of the Jamaican Slayer. They had found her when she was still in diapers and began her training before she could speak in full sentences. It would take Buffy some time to become a skilled fighter, but Lilah didn’t see any harm in a test run. 

“I think it’s time she goes out on her first patrol,” Lilah announced. 

Lindsey lifted an amused brow and leaned back in his chair. “Well, that was sudden.” 

Lilah shook her head. “It’s not. I’ve been toying with the idea for days, but Eve’s report solidified my decision. It’s time that she went out. Buffy is good enough to hold her own out there, and the public is ravenous for some action from her. She’s not like the other Slayers, we couldn’t roll her out as soon as it called her. People are getting restless.” 

“People are stupid, but you have a point. I just want to make sure she’s ready,” Lindsey said. 

“She’ll be fine,” Eve interjected, adding in her vote of confidence. “But we can arrange a level one threat for a little insurance.” 

“Good idea.” Lindsey rose to his feet. “I’ll give Doctor Walsh a call. I’m sure she can rustle up something for us this weekend.” 

“Sounds good,” Lilah agreed. 

***

Those weren’t butterflies in her stomach, they were bats—vampire bats. Well, not really. Merrick told her that vampires don’t turn into bats. Still, they were flying around in Buffy’s stomach, jostling her lunch around. Please don’t make me boot on camera, please don’t make me boot on camera. Buffy squirmed in her chair and swallowed the nausea at the back of her throat. 

“Sit still, okay. I’m almost done.” 

Buffy gave her make-up artist a brief nod and concentrated on making her face as still as possible. She tried not to think about the tickle on her nose that was developing into a full-blown itch. Buffy imagined Peach—her make-up artist—having a full meltdown if she did anything to ruin her work. Buffy still didn’t understand why she needed a full face to get all sweaty, but Lilah had insisted. 

“And there you go… perfect,” Peach leaned back and misted Buffy’s face with setting powder. “What do you think?” she asked, holding a mirror to Buffy’s face. 

Buffy’s lips parted in a silent ‘o’ of surprise. She’d never seen herself that made up before. Her parents allowed her to do some eyeshadow, mascara, and a little blush, but this was full-on television make-up. 

“It’s… wow,” Buffy breathed. 

“That’s exactly the reaction I was looking for,” Peach said as she packed up her tools. “Tammy will probably take one more pass at your hair, and then it’s showtime.” 

Buffy lifted the mirror again and stared at the stranger looking back at her. She looked so… grown-up. For a moment, Buffy had forgotten she was about to be filmed slaying a vampire and allowed herself a moment to indulge in her reflection. She could almost hear Merrick scolding her, but she didn’t care. He’d been in a horrible mood the past few days—ever since Eve had delivered the news about her first patrol. 

“Buffy is ready to patrol but filming her—posting it on that YouTube—puts her life in danger. 

“She’ll be fine,” Eve retorted. “Everyone at the filming will be qualified to help if something were to go wrong. But it won’t, right, Mr. Merrick?” 

Merrick had brooded for the rest of the night after that conversation. Buffy wanted to assure him she would be okay. They trained all the time. Lilah and Lindsey had assured her that patrols were in a controlled environment. It’s all downhill from here, Buffy thought to herself. 

“Knock, knock,” Lilah said, appearing at the opening of Peach’s tent. “You’re looking camera ready.” 

Buffy placed the mirror aside and gave Lilah a wan smile. “Thanks.” 

“You’ll be fine tonight,” Lilah assured her. “There’s nothing for you to worry about.” 

“Yeah, only death,” Buffy mumbled, suddenly remembering why Peach had made her up like a Barbie doll. 

“You’re not going to die, Buffy. It’s the first patrol. We haven’t had a Slayer die on the first day in years. And you know why?” 

Buffy shook her head. If this was Lilah’s idea of a pep talk, she was sucking at it big time. 

“Because I know what I’m doing. So does your Watcher. You’ve been training for weeks now. You’re ready.” 

“Is there anything else you need from me, Ms. Morgan?” Peach asked as she headed out of the tent. 

“No. We’re all set here. Fabulous job on the make-up, Peach.” 

“Thanks! That means a lot coming from you.” Peach beamed at the attorney before turning toward Buffy. “You knock ‘em dead, Slayer. Really knock ‘em dead. And remember what I told you about slaying pretty.” 

“Yep. Make sure I’m giving good face.” 

“That a girl,” Peach said before dipping between the folds of the tent. 

Lilah clapped her hands together and rose to her feet. A bright smile spread across her red, painted lips. “Alright, let’s get this show started.” 

Buffy followed the lawyer outside of the tent and looked around the empty park. Wolfram and Hart’s television crew had cleared the walking trail of any late-night stragglers, leaving it a ghost town. The streetlamps cast eerie spotlights along the path, creating the perfect backdrop for a late-night slay. It reminded Buffy of a scene from a horror movie. Buffy shivered and wrapped her arms protectively around herself. 

“You’ll do fine tonight, Buffy,” Merrick encouraged her from behind. 

Buffy jumped at the sound of his voice and spun around to face him. “Is this normal?” she asked, looking around at the cameras and extra lights. 

Merrick’s thick brows furrowed as he glanced around before returning his gaze to Buffy. “No. There shouldn’t be this many… people or lights. Vampires like to attack when they think no one is watching. They prey on the weak and vulnerable.” 

“Well, it’s hard to make big with the vulnerability with all these lights.” 

“I understand the firm does this for the first patrol. They like to make a big show of it for the public. It’s all a game to them,” Merrick whispered close to her ear. “But after tonight, there shouldn’t be any more fanfare or big productions.” Merrick reached into his brown leather messenger bag and handed Buffy a wooden stake. 

She gripped the wood in her hand, wrapping her fingers around it. For weeks she had imagined her first patrol, but none of her musings compared to the scene before her. Merrick didn’t think she paid attention to him during his lectures, but she listened when he described the other slayers. He had upheld his end of their bargain and read from his Watcher’s diary. Buffy was still working on trying to get him to share what he had written about her-- she’d wear him down, eventually. 

“Buffy, this is James,” Lilah introduced her to a tall man in a flannel shirt and jeans standing beside her. He’s the cameraman—"

“Director,” James corrected. 

Lilah rolled her eyes. “Director. James is hands-off, so don’t worry about him getting in the way. You just concentrate on slaying.” 

Buffy nodded her head. “So, Uhm, I just stand here.” 

“Pretty much,” Lilah replied with a bright smile. “The vampires will come to you. Trust me,” she added with a wink and placed her hand on Buffy’s shoulder, turning her toward the staging area. “Walk down to the third lamppost by the bench and wait. It shouldn’t be long.” 

“Alright, people, get in your positions,” James barked out, and everyone scrambled into their positions. Within moments, the walking path was clear, leaving Buffy open. 

She glanced around the empty park again. James and the rest of the camera crew were out of sight, but she knew they were still around, filming her. Buffy gripped the stake in her hand and peered into the darkness. A lamp had burned out, casting the walkway in deep shadows. Buffy’s spine stiffened as the hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention. 

“I know you’re here,” Buffy called out into the darkness. “So, why don’t we skip the creepy stalking, and you show your bumpy face.” 

“Well, if you insist,” a voice said from the darkness. 

Buffy spun around toward the sound and winced. The vampire was standing a few feet away from her. He was tall, dwarfing her by at least a foot. Reflexively, Buffy stepped back, putting more distance between them. She hadn’t expected her first vampire since the night at the cemetery to be so… big. His yellow eyes seemed to glow in the darkness, making him even more menacing than the others. A stake can still find his heart, Merrick’s words echoed in the recesses of her mind, giving Buffy the courage to face it. You know what to do, she coached herself and moved her feet into a strong fighting stance.

“Big and smelly. Could this be any more predictable?” 

The vampire bared its teeth and lunged at her without warning. “Small and scrawny,” he retorted. “This will be quick work.” He gripped Buffy around her neck, pressing himself to her. 

“You know, I have to agree,” Buffy squeezed out, connecting her elbow to his stomach. 

The vampire let out a strangled grunt and stumbled backward, tripping over his sneaker'd feet. “You little-“ 

Buffy’s foot connected with the vampire’s face, drawing blood. Wild energy surged through her, and she punched his face in rapid succession. He’s not fighting back; Buffy thought to herself as she continued to pummel its face. Why isn’t he fighting back? Buffy kicked the vampire in his gut, and a sharp groan escaped his lips. 

“You’re making this too easy,” Buffy panted out. 

She was expelling all her energy on a vampire who could barely throw a punch. Buffy swung at him again, but the vampire grabbed her fist in the palm of his hands, blocking his punch. Buffy grimaced as the vampire squeezed her knuckles together until yellow spots danced across her eyes. The vampire struck her hard across the face. 

“Holy shit!” he screeched out, clamping his hands on either side of his head. “What the—” 

“It took hours to get me all pretty and look what you did,” Buffy snarked and used her thumb to wipe away a drop of blood at the corner of her lips. 

The vampire shook his head and stumbled toward the shadows, away from Buffy. 

“Don’t let him out of your sight!” She heard James calling out behind her. 

“You’re not leaving so soon, are you?” Buffy yelled as she chased behind the vampire who was still grabbing the side of his head as he ran away. 

The sound of her heart pounded in Buffy’s ears as she followed the vampire into the darkness. She could hear Merrick warning her. It could be a trap, but it didn’t feel like a trap. It felt—staged. She’d been doing most of the work with that vampire and his reaction when he hit her--! It seemed to cause him pain. But why? Buffy’s feet pounded along the pavement. He was close enough now for her to reach him. With a final burst of speed, Buffy tackled the vampire to the ground, driving the stake through his back into his heart. Buffy swiped at the dust clouding the air around her and rose to her feet. 

“And cut!” James yelled. 

Buffy swung around and noticed the small crowd gathering behind her. Her eyes rested on Merrick first. She couldn’t make out his expression. Lilah was standing beside him with a deep scowl on her face. What? What did I do? 

“So, uhm, that’s one for the books,” Buffy said, walking toward them. 

“That’s one way to put it,” Lilah said, her tone disapproving. 

“Cut her some slack, Lilah,” Lindsey said, joining them. Buffy hadn’t realized that he would be there that night. “You did good, Buffy.” 

Buffy looked to Merrick for approval, but her Watcher stood in stony silence, unwilling to offer her any words of encouragement or criticism. “Merrick?” Buffy asked, unsure of herself again. 

“You did fine, Buffy. We’ll discuss further when we return home.” 

“Okay, but there was something weird about that vampire. Did you see the way he—” 

“Almost got away? Yes, we all saw that Buffy,” Lilah said, crossing her arms over her chest. “She needs more training.” Lilah turned toward Merrick. 

“Her training—” 

“Lilah,” James interjected. “I’m sure I can find some useable footage in this mess. Let me work my magic.” 

“Let’s hope so. I need this video up on SlayerTv by the end of the week.” 

“Have I ever let you down?” James asked. 

Buffy looked between the group of adults and fought back the sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had just staked a vampire, and everyone treated it like it was nothing more than a publicity stunt. 

“Just get me something good by Friday.” Lilah turned away from him. “Buffy, we’ll debrief in the morning. Get some rest tonight.” 

Buffy watched as Lilah climbed into her sleek black car and drive away. The rest of the crew broke down the surrounding set as Buffy watched silently.

“Buffy,” Merrick called out to her. “It’s late. You need your rest.” 

Buffy glanced around one more time before following Merrick to the car. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very wrong.


	8. Chapter 8

Buffy lay in her bed and tried to keep still as she listened for any sounds coming from outside of her room. Merrick often went to bed late, and Buffy didn’t want to risk running into him. She had prepared a few excuses, but she didn’t want to lay the ground for any suspicion. Tonight, Buffy was on a mission for answers. She couldn’t get that vampire out of her mind, and no matter how much Buffy pressed Merrick for details, he wouldn’t budge. Her Watcher seemed almost afraid to speak on it and didn’t blame him. Wolfram and Hart gave her the major wiggins. 

Buffy strained her ears toward the door—silence-- and crossed her fingers, hoping Merrick was in his room sound asleep and unaware of her plans to snoop around in his library. Buffy pressed her cheek against the door and counted to ten. Praying, she pulled the door open with only the slightest creek and held her breath as she stepped out into the darkened hallway. The house was quiet except for faint snoring behind Merrick’s door. Moving carefully, Buffy crept down the hallway, mindful of the creaky floorboards as she made her way toward the front of the house. 

The shelf in the living area overflowed with books Merrick had brought over from England. Buffy used the built-in flashlight on her cellphone to light the way, scanning the rows of weighty tomes. The Complete Pickering’s Theory of Interdimensional Travel. Lawson’s Treatise of Demonology, Psychological Interpretations of Vampirism by F. Prescott. The books loomed over her, heavy and as foreign as another language. 

Definitely above my pay grade, Buffy thought to herself as she scanned the heavy shelves. Before becoming a slayer, Buffy had a working knowledge of vampires that mostly came from The SlayerTube channel. She knew they were of the bumpy forehead and sharp teeth variety, but people liked to pretend they weren’t real or too rare to be a threat. Until that night in the cemetery, she had never seen a vampire up close and in technicolor. Back then, they were just another thing on television. Some people even thought the guys at Wolfram and Hart were faking all that demonology stuff like they thought the government faked the moon landing. 

Buffy continued to scan the shelf, stopping to read a title that looked halfway written in English. You wouldn’t have a copy of Vampires for Dummies, would you, Merrick? Buffy exhaled slowly and ran the tip of her fingers over each book’s spines until she came across an interesting title. Nosferatu, it read in large, ornate gold lettering. 

Well, if I will start somewhere, it should be a classic. Buffy eased the book from the shelf and hunkered down in one of the sitting chairs in the far corner of the living room where she could keep her eyes and ears on the hallway. Using her cellphone for a light, Buffy scanned the first page and sighed. It occurred to Buffy that she wasn’t sure what she was looking for or what she would do with the information when she found it. Merrick encouraged her to keep up with her studies, but Buffy was more of a doer than a reader. Research had never been her thing, even at school. She flipped one page and then another, half-reading the jumble of words and growing slowly disinterested in her mission. After about an hour of blindly reading, Buffy slumped in her chair. She would need to go to the source if she wanted answers. The more vampires she fought, the more she’d learn from them. Buffy stifled a yawn and glanced toward the window. It was getting late, and she had to wake up early for training. With a heavy sigh, Buffy slid the book back in its place and headed toward her room. 

****

“So, Buffy, are you going to eat your food or push it around your plate for another twenty minutes?” Eve asked from across the breakfast table the next morning. 

“Huh? Oh,” Buffy replied with a start and looked up from her plate of cold eggs and shredded toast. She gave the liaison a weak smile and pushed the abandoned plate away. “I guess I’m pretty full.” 

Eve’s brow creased into a slight frown. “Is anything bothering you, Buffy?” she asked, moving her chair closer to Buffy’s side of the table. 

Buffy cast a furtive glance toward Merrick and noticed his back stiffen as he fiddled with a teakettle. They still hadn’t spoken about her first televised patrol or the vampire she had fought, he was avoiding the subject. 

“Bothering me? Nothing I can think of,” she lied and took a long gulp of orange juice. 

“We’ve increased training over the last few days. Buffy is still adjusting to the new regiment,” Merrick explained, joining them at the table. 

“Oh, any particular reason you’re training more?” 

Merrick cleared his throat and took a careful sip of his tea. “Well, after that disastrous first slay, I thought it would be best for Buffy. One can never be too prepared.” 

Eve went silent for a moment as she eyed the pair. “Good thinking,” She said after a pregnant pause. “I can only imagine the briefing you got.” Eve snickered and brushed a fake crumb off her blouse. 

“Briefing? What briefing?” Buffy perked up. Were they talking about her? What were they saying? 

Eve shook her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, dismissing Buffy’s question. “What matters is that we’ve gotten some good feedback about you.” 

Buffy shifted in her chair and ignored the lurching in her stomach. “Well, lay it on me. How bad is it?” 

Eve chuckled. “Surprisingly, not as bad as you think. You lost some points for letting the vampire escape, but where you lacked, you made up in your performance and durability.” 

“Huh?” 

“That means you kicked ass.” 

Buffy’s lips curved into a slow, satisfied smile. “Cool. You hear that Merrick, I kicked ass.” 

“Hmmm. Yes, that’s all well and good,” Merrick interjected. “But don’t let your audience’s praise go to your head, Buffy. The public can be quite fickle.” 

“He’s right,” Eve said, nodding her head in agreement. “They like the way you fight, but your approval took a nosedive on account of your... hair.” 

Buffy smoothed a hand down her honey blonde locks and tugged on a curl. “My hair?” She repeated, hurt. What was wrong with her hair?

“According to Twitter user 'WoahCordy,' you’ve got mom-hair,” Eve said, almost sympathetically. 

“I totally do not have mom-hair!” Buffy whined and dug out a compact mirror from her backpack and stared at her reflection in dismay. “I’ve got mom hair!” Buffy moaned at her reflection. People had accused her of having a lot of things, but-mom hair was never one of them. 

“Your hair is fine, Buffy,” Merrick encouraged her, uninterested in the fashion stylings of teenage girls. 

Buffy whipped her head toward her Watcher. What did he know about hair? The man wore a comb-over! She had mom-hair, and everyone was laughing at her. 

“Not according to my adoring public,” Buffy grumped and rolled her eyes.

“Don’t pay Mr. Merrick any attention. He’s a guy,” Eve reassured her. “A very old guy... but a guy nevertheless. He wouldn’t understand,” she said, patting Buffy on the shoulder. “We can fix this. Wolfram and Hart brought in a celebrity stylist to give you a makeover.” 

“Makeover?” Buffy asked, temporarily over the trauma of having mom-hair. “Celebrity stylist?” 

“Buffy…” Merrick huffed. “Your hair is of little importance when it comes to-to slaying. You must remain focused. Besides, once you’re in the middle of combat, no one will notice what your hair looks like.” 

Buffy starred between her Watcher and Eve, conflict brewing behind her eyes. On the one hand, she knew Merrick was right. Whenever they trained, her hairstyle was the furthest thing from her mind; but there were no cameras around when she practiced with Merrick. Her slaytinary was jammed pack with press opportunities, photoshoots, and televised slays. People were watching her, and shouldn’t she look her best for the public? Didn’t they deserve a well-coiffed slayer? 

“The numbers say you’re wrong,” Eve disagreed, flashing Merrick a smug grin. “People most definitely are noticing our little Buffster down to her split ends.” She squeezed Buffy’s shoulder, making her cringe at the nickname. “I know you’re into that twenty-four-seven punch, kick, fight thing, but there’s an art to this. All of our girls have to learn how to fight pretty. You can’t fight pretty with mom-hair,” Eve said, turning back to Buffy. “So, what do you say? We blow off training for the day and get you a makeover fit for a celebrity?” 

“You don’t have to ask me twice!” Buffy replied, leaping to her feet. She grabbed her backpack and quickly shrugged it on. “So about this whole fighting pretty thing... does that also include nails? I can’t have mom hair and a chipped manicure,” Buffy said, her voice brimming with hope. 

Eve chuckled and ushered her out of the kitchen toward the front door. “I’ll see what we can do about your nails. I know a little place on the way.” 

+++

Spike slumped down in the threadbare recliner and took another long swig of his beer. The alcohol and the recliner came compliments of Joe, the apartment’s previous owner. And so did the shitty little telly he kept propped on top of a cheap plywood entertainment center. But who was he to complain? He had lucked up with a free apartment and a belly full of warm blood on his first night in L.A. Thanks Craig’s List; Spike thought to himself as he continued to channel surf mindlessly. He had contemplated picking up a new one but kept putting it off. Spike studied the long diagonal crack across the screen, bisecting the picture. There was a pawnshop just down the street with a decent selection of flat screens. He’d pop in tomorrow night and grab one.

After his swing down in New Mexico, Spike returned to Los Angeles, ready to put down some roots and forget about Dru. That stupid bint. Bitterness sloshed around in his stomach as he took another long swig. Yeah, it was time to move on. Dru was a bloody thorn in my bloody side, anyway. How many times did I stick my neck out for her... and did I ever get a thanks, Spike? Not even an attaboy for my troubles, he groused.

“Well, no bloody more,” he muttered out loud. “From now on, I’m doing things my way. On my bloody own!” Spike’s chest puffed out as he spoke, imbued by his new resolve, he finished the last of his beer in one gulp and slammed the empty bottle on the small wooden table in front of him. “That’s right, Dru. I’m a--“ 

Spike paused as his fingers clicked to the next channel, and Buffy Summers’ image filled the screen. Without thought, he laid the remote aside and slid to the edge of his chair, eyes transfixed on the moving pictures. There was something about her smiling picture that caught his attention. She looked... different. Spike grabbed the remote again and turned up the volume. 

"So, what did you think of that clip of her from last week, Mario?” The female presenter asked her co-host. 

“Honestly, I think she’s got spunk. There’s something about her. I like it.” The camera focused on Mario Lopez again as he spoke. 

“Well... she’s got something. I’m just glad they did something with that hair!” 

Spike trained his eyes at the photo of the Slayer in the background. Ah, so that’s what was different. She changed her hair. Spike had to admit, he liked the new style better. It made her appear fresh. Sill, didn’t those wankers at Wolfram and Hart know that no one worth their stones in a match against the Slayer gave a damn about her hairstyle? Disgusted, Spike shook his head. These days, Slayer’s were nothing more than a joke, fodder for the sods on TMZ or Entertainment Tonight. There was a time when taking down a Slayer had been a badge of honor, the ultimate of bragging rights, and he used to glory in his accomplishment of taking down not one, but two of them. Not even Angelus or the Master had taken out a Slayer. But those days were long over, lost to the digital age where everyone pranced around for likes from nobodies on the internet. No one bloody cared about anything that was real anymore. 

“I like her hair,” Mario agreed in his usual affable way, flashing his dimpled smile. 

Spike rolled his eyes again. They were turning the Slayer into a mindless automaton, he thought, shaking his head. Spike switched off the television with an angry click and headed toward the kitchen for another beer. He had hoped to take out another Slayer in his lifetime—a proper one, but the odds didn’t seem to be in his favor—not with Wolfram and Hart in charge. He always knew those Watcher types didn’t have a backbone; otherwise, they’d never have allowed the lawyers at Evil and Co. swoop in and take charge. Spike popped the top of his beer and grabbed Joe’s discarded cell phone. The poor bastard hadn’t even kept it locked. He scanned the downloaded apps on the screen and searched for YouTube, then typed in Buffy Summers in the search bar. A few seconds later, there were dozens of videos of her for him to choose. He scrolled past the reaction videos and entertainment pages until he found the original footage. 

With an absent swig of his beer, he watched as Buffy appeared on the small screen. The fight was quick and an utter waste of time. He could almost feel her frustration with it through the phone. Hell, it frustrated him! He watched the vampire’s weak attempt at taking down the Slayer and sneered. No one cared about their craft anymore. Not one of Lothos’ guys, he thought with begrudging admiration for the vampire. 

“Oh, come on! You’re not even fighting! Punch her in the face, you slag!” He shouted at the vampire in the video. But it was no use, he couldn’t hear him, and the fight was long over, replicated over a dozen times in digital space. Spike replayed the video, pausing it from time to time as he studied Buffy. She was almost good. Her technique was still choppy in places, but he gave her some slack for coming into slaying so late in the game. Unlike the other potentials, they had left her to the wayside like a forgotten toy. But A.C. Slater was right; she had something…

Spike played the video again and focused his attention on the vampire. His brows turned down and bunched together as he watched the fight again. There was something off about the entire thing; Spike was barely fighting her. It was as if he was trying to lose! Spike shook his head. He wouldn’t put it past the firm to pay vamps and other beasties to throw fights against the Slayer for views. After all, wasn’t everything about viewership and mentions? Watching Buffy fight made Spike want to get out there and give her a real challenge—show her a thing or two. Of course, she’d lose miserably, but she’d go out with some dignity at least. She’d know what it was like to fight, like she had something to lose. But with the distracto-boy, there were no stakes. Wolfram and Hart had made it so that Slayers were nothing more than reality T.V. stars. Mind as well call it The Real Slayers of The O.C. or some other nonsense, he thought, shaking his head again. 

“Poor girl hasn’t got a chance…” Spike said and flipped through the channels again. “Oh! Chips is on!” He leaned back into his chair, forgetting all about Buffy Summers.


End file.
